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UNDER SAIL 



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THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 

NEW YORK • BOSTON • CHICAGO 
DALLAS • ATLANTA • SAN FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN & CO., LmrrED 

LONDON • BOMBAY • CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA. Ltd. 

TORONTO 



Digitized by the Internet Archive 
in 2011 with funding from 
The Library of Congress 



http://www.archive.org/details/undersailOOries 



UNDER SAIL 



BY 

FELIX RIESENBERG 



ILLUSTRATED 




THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 



1918 

All rights reserved 



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COFTBIOHT, 1018 

Bt the macmillan company 

Set up and Electrotyped, Published, September, 1918 



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CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Introduction 1 

Outward Bound 12 

The Outward Passage . 29 

Christmas Day on the High Seas .... 45 

The Fight 65 

Neptune Comes on Board . \ 77 

Life in the Fo'c'sle 90 

Cape Horn 102 

Rounding the Horn 115 

Into the Pacific 123 

Cabin and Fo'c'sle 133 

Cleaning House and a Celebration . . . 142 

Making Port 154 

In Honolulu Town 168 

Unloading — with a Bit of Politics . ... 179 

Hawaiian Hospitality 187 

Honolulu of the Old Days 200 

A Dinner Ashore 212 

British Neighbors 223 

The Mate Keeps Us Busy 233 

The Land of Languor 245 

vii 



viii CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Loading Sugab ,. 253 

Good-Bye to Honolulu 268 

Homeward Bound 280 

Hawaiian Shipmates - . . 291 

Driving Southward 303 

Cape Horn Again .318 

Man Lost Overboard 332 

Australia's Story 342 

Stormy Days 356 

Headed North 366 

Fo'c'sle Discussions 377 

Through the Trades 388 

Approaching Home 399 

The End of the Voyage 408 

The Long-looked-for Payday ...... 420 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

Old Smith 19 

Frenchy 26 

Deck Plan of Ship A. J. Fuller 31 

Jimmy Marshall 41 

Fred 49 

Joe 61 

Skouse 70 

Martin 108 

Cape Horn 114 

At Brewer's Wharf . 175 

Charlie Horse 196 

Watching the Shore When In the Stream . . . 235 

Brenden Reading Letter 265 

JackHitchen 270 

Australia 343 

Sketches of Diego Ramirez 357 

Axel 382 

Watching Shore at Delaware Breakwater . . . 405 



INTRODUCTION 

THE SQUARE RIGGERS 

AMERICA is again facing forward to the 
sea. The ancient thrill of the wide salt 
spaces, of the broad horizon beyond which adven- 
ture beckons us, appeals once more to the youth 
of America. We are living in times when the 
great importance of the sea as a career comes 
home to us at every turn. The sea is the great 
bulwark of our liberty, and by the sea we must 
persevere or perish in the world struggle of An- 
glo-Saxon democracy against the powers of au- 
tocratic might. 

When America returns to her own, she builds 
upon foundations of tradition that have their 
footings on the solid bed rock of the republic, 
One glorious era of our sea history was followed 
by another, and as times progressed the breed 
of seamen ever rose capable and triumphant to 
the necessities that called them forth. 

The Revolutionary sailors, and those of 1812, 
were followed by the great commercial seamen 

1 



2 UNDER SAIL 

of the clippers. The mighty fleets of the Civil 
War astonished the world, and in the period just 
previous to our seafaring decline of a score of 
years past, the great sailers flying the Stars and 
Stripes spread their white cotton canvas on every 
sea. 

Their story has never been adequately told. 
They are not to be measured in terms of ton- 
nage, or in the annals of swift passages from port 
to port. Their contribution to the legends of the 
sea remains obscure. They carried a tradition 
of hard driving, and were a phase of our sea life 
that formed and forged the link between the old 
and the new, between the last days of sail and 
the great new present of the America of steam 
and steel. 

Men who go to sea today in our merchant ma- 
rine, in positions of command, are, in many in- 
stances, graduates of the ships of these latter 
days of sail 

Looking back, and as time goes it is not so 
very far away, we can, in our mind's eye, see the 
great wood-built craft that lined the waterfront 
of South Street. These were the last of the 
American sailing ships, entering from, and clear- 
ing to, every sea port under heaven. They were 
not the famous California clippers of an earlier 



THE SQUARE RIGGERS 3 

day, or the swift Western Ocean packet ships, 
or the storied tea ships of the China trade, but 
they were their legitimate successors. The ships 
of this last glorious burst of sail, under the Stars 
and Stripes, were larger craft, vessels built for 
the long voyage haul, for the grain trade, for the 
sugar trade, and as carriers of general cargo to 
the Orient and the western coast of North 
America. 

Most of these ships were laid down in the 
eighties, and left the yards of Maine to find ad- 
venture and preferment in the longer routes of 
commerce. The Horn and the Cape of Good 
Hope were their turning points, and they smoked 
through the hum of the Roaring Forties, as they 
beat from the Line to Liverpool, laden with Cali- 
fornia grain, or they ran before the westerly 
winds, from Table Bay to Melbourne — Running 
Their Easting Down — black hulled, white 
winged ships, with New York, Boston, Balti- 
more, or Philadelphia standing out in golden let- 
ters on their transoms. 

Only the strongest and best found ships, and 
the most skilful and daring seamen were fit to 
carry the flag across the world-long ocean courses 
about the storm-swept Horn, and here again 
America more than held her own in competition 



4 UNDER SAIL 

with the mariners of the old seafaring nations of 

Europe. 

Winthrop Lippitt Marvin in his valuable work, 

"The American Merchant Marine," * pictures 

this last Titanic struggle of the sea in stirring 

fashion — 

"It was a contest of truly Olympian dignity, 
— of the best ships of many flags with each 
other and with the elements. Out through the 
Golden Gate there rode every year in the later 
seventies and the eighties, southward bound, 
the long lean iron models of Liverpool and 
Glasgow, the broader waisted, wooden New 
Englanders, with their fine Yankee sheer and 
tall, gleaming skysails, the sturdy, careful 
Norwegian and German ships, often launched 
on the Penobscot or Kennebec, and here and 
there a graceful Frencliman or Italian. The 
British were the most numerous, because the 
total tonnage of their merchant marine was by 
far the greatest. Next came the Americans. 
The other flags looked small by comparison. 
In this splendid grain trade there sailed from 
San Francisco for Europe in 1881-85, 761 
British iron ships and 418 American wooden 
ships. The Americans were the largest ves- 

* Chas. Scribner & Sons, N. Y. 



THE SQUARE RIGGERS 5 

sels. Their average registered tonnage was 
1,634 and of the fourteen ships above 2,000 
tons that sailed in 1880-1, twelve flew the Stars 
and Stripes. The average tonnage of the Brit- 
ish iron ships was 1,356. 

"The wooden yards of Maine had seen their 
opportunity and built in quick succession many 
great ships and barks of from 1,400 to 2,400 
tons, very strongly constiTicted on models hap- 
pily combining carrying capacity with speed, 
loftily sparred, and clothed with the symmetri- 
cal, snow-white canvas for which Yankee sail- 
makers were famous the world around. These 
new vessels were not strictly clippers, though 
they were often called so. They were really 
medium clippers ; that is, they were less racer- 
like and more capacious than the celebrated 
greyhounds of the decade before the Civil War. 
They could not compete with steam; their 
owners knew it. But they were launched in 
confident hope that they were adapted for the 
grain trade and for some other forms of long- 
voyage, bulky carrying, and that they could 
find a profitable occupation during their life- 
time of fifteen or twenty years. They were 
just as fine ships in their way as the extreme 
clippers, and in all but speed they were more 



6 UNDER SAIL 

efficient. They were framed with oak, and 
ceiled and planked with the hard pine of the 
South. They were generously supplied with 
the new, approved devices in rig and equip- 
ment." 

In the last years of the nineties there were 
many survivors of this noble fleet of American 
sailers still in the long voyage trade. Ships like 
the El Capitan, the Charmer, the A. J. Fuller, 
the Roanoke, and the Shenandoah, were clearing 
from New York for deepwater ports, and South 
Street was a thoroughfare of sailors, redolent of 
tar, and familiar with the wide gossip of the 
seas, brought to the string pieces of the street 
by men from the great sailing ships. 

Then the crimp still throve in his repulsive 
power, and the Boarding Masters' Association 
owned the right to parcel out, fleece and ship, 
the deepwater seamen of the port. The Front 
Street House and a score of others held the 
humble dunnage of the fo'c'sle sailor as security, 
cashed his "advance" and sent him out past the 
Hook with nothing but a sparse kit of dog's wool 
and oakum slops, a sheath knife and a donkey's 
breakfast. 

Those were the hard days of large ships and 
small crews. In clipper days, a flyer like the Sov- 



THE SQUARE RIGGERS 7 

ereign of the Seas carried a crew of eighty sea- 
men, and most of them were as rated — A.B. 
The ship A. J. Fuller, in the year 1897, left the 
port of New York, for the voyage around Cape 
Horn to Honolulu with eighteen seamen, count- 
ing the boy and the carpenter, the Fuller being a 
three skysail yard ship of 1,848 tons register. 

It may be interesting to compare the size and 
crew of the Sovereign of the Seas, as given by 
Captain Clark in his great book, "The Clipper 
Ship Era," * with the dimensions and crew of the 
ship A. J. Fuller. 

Ship Sovereign of the Seas A. J. Fuller 

Length 258 ft. 229 ft. 

Beam 44 ft. 41.5 ft. 

Draft 23.5 ft. 18 ft. 

Register Tonnage 2,421 tons 1,848 tons 

Crew — 

Master 1 Master ... .i 1 

Mates 4- Mates 2 

Boatswains 2 Carpenter 1 

Carpenters 2 Able Seamen l6 

Sailmakers 2 Boy . 1 

Able Seamen 80 

Boys 10 21 



101 
G. P. Putnam and Sons. 



8 UNDER SAIL 

This condition, of small crews and large ships, 
brought to the seven seas a reputation for re- 
lentless driving and manhandling that has clung 
to the minds of men as nothing else. The huge 
American ships were the hardest afloat, and that 
remarkable booklet, "The Red Record," compiled 
by the National Seamen's Union of America, in 
the middle nineties, carries a tale of cruelty and 
abuse on the high seas that must forever remain 
a blot upon the white escutcheon of sail. 

These ships bred a sea officer peculiar to the 
time — the bucko mate of fact as well as fiction. 
These were hard fisted men, good sailors and ex- 
cellent disciplinarians, though they lacked the 
polish acquired by sea officers of an earlier day 
when the sailer was often a passenger carrier, and 
intercourse with people of culture had its effect 
upon the men of the after guard. Also, the sea 
had become less attractive as a career. The 
boasted "high pay" of the American Merchant 
Marine, was $60 per month for the Chief Mate ; 
$30 per month for the Second Mate, and $18 
per month for an A.B. — at least such were the 
magnificent wages paid on the A. J. Fuller of 
New York in the year 1897. 

The mate, to earn his two dollars a day, and 
keep, had to be a seaman of the highest attain- 



THE SQUARE RIGGERS 9 

ments. His was a knowledge won only after a 
long hard apprenticeship at sea. He had to have 
the force of character of a top-notch executive, 
combined with ability and initiative. Then too, 
he was supposed to be a navigator, a man having 
at least a speaking acquaintance with nautical 
astronomy. In addition to this he might be as 
rough and as foul mouthed as he saw fit, and 
some of them were very liberal in this respect. 

Then men still signed articles, voyage after 
voyage, for the long drill around the Horn, or, 
to vary the monotony, if such it could be called, 
made the voyage to Australia, or to China or 
Japan. In the main, however, American ships 
clearing from New York carried cargoes to the 
West Coast of the United States, or to the Ha- 
waiian Islands, where they came under the pro- 
tective ruling of the coastwise shipping laws, and 
were not compelled to meet the stringent insur- 
ance rates of Lloyd's that barred American sail- 
ing bottoms from fair competition with the 
British. 

The sailor men of that day were still real sea- 
men, at least a large number of real seamen still 
clung to the remaining ships. They were experts, 
able to turn in a dead eye in wire or hemp, and 
could cast a lanyard knot in the stiff four- 



10 UNDER SAIL 

stranded stuff that was later on replaced by 
screws and turn buckles when metal hulls suc- 
ceeded those of wood. 

With the passing of the wooden ship — the 
wooden square rigged sailer — went the Ameri- 
can sailor, for comparatively few steel sailing 
ships were built in the United States. With the 
sailor went the romance of bulging canvas and 
of storm stripped humming bolt ropes. The 
tragedy, and the hardships of the long voyages 
passed away, and with that passing is gone much 
of the actual physical struggle with the wind and 
sea that made the sailor what he was. 

The square rigged breed of sailors, while not 
dead yet, for the old salts die hard, has, by force 
of circumstances, failed to rear a younger gener- 
ation to take its place. But the old spirit of sea 
adventure is as strong as ever; the ocean rages 
as loud, and lies as calm, as in the days of de- 
parted glory. It is still the world route to for- 
eign trade, and a more ample domestic prosper- 
ity. Americans are again turning toward the 
sea, are heeding its age old wisdom, and are 
building and handling the newer craft of steam, 
and coal, and oil, with as much skill and success 
as they did the sailing craft of old. 

On the following pages is recorded for the sea- 



THE SQUARE RIGGERS 11 

men and landsmen of today, a personal story of 
one of the last voyages around Cape Horn in a 
wooden ship propelled by sail alone — a ship with- 
out a donkey engine, a wooden Bath-built packet 
at her prime in point of age and upkeep. The 
advance notes have been cashed by the boarding 
masters, who have left the crew in tow of their 
crimps, and, after deducting for board and slops, 
the last remaining dollars have been blown in on 
the Bowery under the watchful eyes of the run- 
ners, who see to it that the men are delivered on 
board. 

Our ship is the A. J. Fuller of New York, 
Captain Charles M. Nichols, and she waits her 
crew, ready to cast off from her berth in the East 
River at the turn of the tide, at daybreak on 
December 5, 1897, having cleared for the port of 
Honolulu, capital of the Republic of Hawaii, 
with a general cargo consigned to the old island 
house of Brewer and Company. 



CHAPTER I 

OUTWARD BOUND 

"Oh for a fair and gentle wind^" 
I heard a fair one cry; 
But give to me the roaring breeze. 

And white waves beating high; 
And white waves beating high, my boys. 

The good ship tight and free. 
The world of waters is our own. 
And merry men are we, 

Jacob Faithful. 

COOK!" bawled a deep voice from a door 
that burst open with a flood of yellow light 
under the break of the poop, "serve a round of 
hot cafay nore to them passengers! And Mr. 
Stoddard," added the mate from whom these 
orders issued, addressing the second officer who 
strode from the edge of light toward the group 
of men tumbling on board, "turn all hands to in 
five minutes ! Stand by to cast off lines !" 

Some of the shore crowd from the boarding 
houses helped to pass up the chests and bags of 
dunnage, and the bundles of "donkey's break- 

12 



OUTWARD BOUND 13 

fast" as we clambered to the ice-encruste3 deck 
of the ship A. J. Fuller ^ lying at her wharf near 
the foot of Maiden Lane. A flickering light, and 
the rattle of stove lids in the galley, as we passed 
forward to the fo'c'sle, told us that the cook was 
stirring, and the snorting of a tug under the star- 
board quarter gave notice of an early start. 

It was dark when we came aboard ; a cold De- 
cember wind rippled the black waters of the East 
River, chilling to the marrow those few stragglers 
who walked the cobble stones of South Street at 
that early morning hour. 

An odd lot of humanity dumped their few be- 
longings on the fo'c'sle deck; strangers all, ex- 
cepting a few who had just deserted from the 
British bark Falls of Ettrich, men jumbled to- 
gether by strange fate, and destined to long 
months of close companionship, of hard knocks, 
and endless days and nights of unremitting labor. 

No time was lost, however, in sentimental 
mooning; the chill morning air was charged with 
activity, the "after guard" was all astir and an 
ebb tide flowed, ready to help us on our way. 
Gulping down the "cafay nore" that presently 
was passed forward in a bucket, all hands dip- 
ping in with hook pots and pannikins, hastily 
dug from chest and bag, we were barely able to 



14 UNDER SAIL 

stow away this refreshment before a heavy fist 
thumped the fo'c'sle doors. 

"Turn to ! Turn to ! This ain't a private yacht- 
ing tour!" was the sarcastic invitation that sent 
us scrambling to the deck. 

''Here ! You, I mean !" yelled the mate, "come 
forward 1" for I had headed aft, and, at this com- 
mand, I found myself with some others hauling 
a heavy water-soaked hawser aboard the fo'c'sle 
head. 

**A11 clear?" came the query from aft. 

"Aye, aye! All clear!" 

A long whistle sounded from our tug, as we 
backed slowly from the wharf; the escort of 
boarding house runners shivering on the string 
piece of the dock, gave us a dismal cheer, and the 
voyage around Cape Horn had fairly begun. 

The first level rays of morning light began to 
filter over the house tops on the Brooklyn side, 
the misty span of the bridge loomed above the 
river, and a dozen bloodshot eyes among the crew 
forward cast their farewell glances at the Tom 
and Jerry signs in the saloon windows on historic 
South Street. 

We were a lumbering lot, pushed and cuffed 
from station to station, our best men acting like 
dolts, until the exercise and crisp morning air, 



OUTWARD BOUND 15 

zipping above the river, wore off the eff*ects of a 
last night spent at the Atlantic Garden. South 
Street, at that day still a forest of spars, with here 
and there a bald spot marking the advent of the 
coastwise steamers, slid past us. Governor's Is- 
land, the Statue, the Narrows, and the Hook, 
were passed unnoticed in the ceaseless hustle on 
our decks. The running gear, left by the shore 
riggers in a hopeless tangle, had to be put to 
rights, and the mates worked us like demons to 
get things in some sort of shape before we should 
be called upon to work the vessel under sail. 

Gradually order of some sort issued from the 
chaos, and as the day wore on we set our fores'], 
all tops'ls, main t'gan'sl, jib and stays'ls, before 
a stiff off-shore breeze that caused the towline to 
slacken, and orders were given to cast off the tug. 

The new steam pilot boat New York rode the 
swell ahead of us, ready to take off the pilot. 

"Weather main braces!" came the order; the 
yards were braced aback, a yawl from the New 
York touched our side for an instant, as we 
surged ahead slowly against the back push from 
the main, and the pilot, hanging from a Jacob's 
ladder, dropped into his boat. 

"See you in Liverpool!" shouted the pilot, 



16 UNDER SAIL 

standing in the yawl and waving a final farewell 
to Captain Nichols. 

"Brace up main yards, sir!" ordered the skip- 
per, addressing the mate, and we swung them 
around with a will. 

The day was well advanced by then, a low bank 
of cloud over the land shut in the sunset, and a 
spanking breeze from no'east by nor' brought our 
port tacks to the deck. The Fuller heeled easily 
beneath the force of the wind. Off to leeward, 
and rapidly falling astern, was the American 
ship Tarn O'Shanter^ bound for China; we heard 
afterward that she was lost. 

Up to the first dog watch all hands had labored 
without a moment's rest, and at eight bells in the 
afternoon the courses and all plain sail to royals 
were drawing nicely. As soon as the gear was 
shipshape and coiled on the pins, all hands were 
mustered aft. There was a feeling of uncertainty 
among the crew as we filed aft to the waist, stand- 
ing in an awkward group about the main fife 
rail, a nondescript, hard-fisted, weatherbeaten 
lot of men. 

Above towered the vast expanse of snowy can- 
vas, looming out of all proportion in the dark 
half light of the winter evening; beneath us was 
the rolling, palpitating sweep of deck, yielding 



OUTWARD BOUND 17 

and swaying in the constant balance 'tween the 
wind and sea. To windward, above the line of 
bulwark, a ragged mackerel sky drove across the 
cloud rack of scattered cirrus, touched with dull 
red from the high shafts of the setting sun. The 
black backs of the shoreward rollers swept to lee- 
ward and astern, passing us as if frightened by 
the loft}^ figure of the ship. 

The watches were about to be chosen. The 
two mates came down into the waist, and Captain 
Nichols stood at the break of the poop to observe 
this time-honored ceremony of the sea. For bet- 
ter or for worse, in sunshine or in storm, we were 
to be parceled off to our respective task-masters 
for the long months of the voyage ahead. The 
fate of friendships was to be decided, for watch- 
mates are far closer than mere shipmates, and a 
general desire to escape the clutches of the mate 
made all of us anxious for the ordeal to be con- 
cluded. Most of the men were in favor of the 
second mate, Mr. Stoddard. The mate, Mr. 
Zerk, was a driver, a bully, and what not, but 
the second mate seemed to be easier, in spite of 
the fact that he lost no opportunity to bawl out 
everyone that came across his path. 

"He'll be all right when we get outside," was 
the remark that voiced the general opinion. Old 



18 UNDER SAIL 

Smith, perhaps the wisest of the real sailormen 
on board, came as near to hitting the relative 
values of the mates as was possible. "I don't see 
no choice between them," he said. "One may be 
easier, but give me the best sailor. A good sailor 
aft saves work for his watch forward. See if I 
don't figger it right. Take it any way you like, 
there's no choosing between them rotten apples 
aft, and let it go at that." 

Mr. Zerk, a man of about forty, medium in 
height, broad shouldered, bull necked, with close 
cropped yellow hair — grey eyes set in a very red, 
smooth-shaven face, except for a sweeping blond 
moustache, was a native of Nova Scotia, brought 
up in "blue nose" ships. He eyed us with the 
cold look of a surgeon about to amputate. Walk- 
ing up to the group just abaft of the mainmast, 
he made his first choice without a moment's hesi- 
tation. 

"Frenchy, come here," and Victor Mathes, of 
Dunkirk, went to the port watch, chosen by the 
mate. 

"Smith," was the laconic reply of Mr. Stod- 
dard to the first choice of the mate. Honors 
were even, for it was a toss up between the two 
men. 

Brenden, a husky, well-set-up sailor, trained 



OUTWARD BOUND 



19 



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20 UNDER SAIL 

in the sailing ships out of Hamburg, with plenty 
of beef and a good head, was the next choice of 
the mate. 

"Axel," said the second mate, scoring the first 
advantage in the choosing of the watches. Axel 
proved to be one of the best men in the crew, a 
big, boyish Swede, a sailor and a gentleman. 

"Roth, come here," and John Roth, late of the 
opal mines in Australia, one of the deserters 
from the Falls of Ettrich, and the artist of the 
crew, went to port. We soon dubbed him "Aus- 
tralia." The mate sent "Australia" to relieve 
the wheel, and the second mate paused a moment 
weighing the merits of the remaining men. 

"Tom," was his choice, and another sailor, 
Tom Morstad, also a deserter from the Ettrick^ 
went to starboard. 

Things were fining down, and the remaining 
victims in this heartless process of elimination 
were becoming increasingly apprehensive, while 
those who had been chosen grinned at us with ag- 
gravating humor. The mates were getting less 
and less sure of their choice as the pickings be- 
came more and more undesirable. It was getting 
to be a question of brains versus brawn. Husky 
young clodhoppers shipped as A.B. by the 
greedy boarding masters; young mules with 



OUTWARD BOUND 21 

nothing but their thick hides and an abundance 
of main strength and stupidity to recommend 
them, placed in the balance with such old fellows 
as Jimmy Marshall and Jack Hitchen. Jimmy, 
who claimed to be sixty-five, a wizened little old 
sea-horse, but a wonderful "chantey man," won 
the next choice and was taken by the mate. 

Hitchen was called to starboard, and the 
honors still remained about even in the contest 
of wit and experience, for both mates had studied 
the paces of each individual with critical eyes 
during that eventful day. 

The next choice was a painful one. There was 
a short pause; it seemed to us that "Charlie 
Horse," who had once been mate on a coaster 
in the oyster trade, or Dago Tony, would surely 
be chosen next. 

"Felix, come here," said the mate, running his 
eye over the Dago and Charlie, and lighting on 
me. I stepped over to the boys lined up on the 
lee side, a weight lifted from my mind, as 
Frenchy, destined to be my chum, moved near 
me. 

It was getting on by then. Chips went aft 
carrying the side lights, and Captain Nichols was 
stumping the poop with some impatience, as a 
hint to his officers to bring things to a close. 



22 UNDER SAIL 

The second mate chose Charlie, and George 
Krug, or "Scouse" as we called him, was taken 
by the mate. Dago Tony went to the second 
mate, and Fred Erricson, a good sailor, also an 
Ettrick deserter, went to port. 

Mike, the wood turner, went to starboard, and 
Joe Johnson, one time a cobbler's apprentice, 
and general all round husky favorite of misfor- 
tune, was taken by the mate. 

The left-overs, Martin, and Peter the boy, 
were divided by the call of Peter to the starboard 
watch, and Martin fell to the mate. Peter, an 
American, ex-reporter on a Worcester paper, one 
time foreman in a corset factory, and a bright, 
wideawake boy of something over twenty-one, 
had shipped for eight dollars a month and his 
health. The voyage netted him his payday many 
times over, for he was endov/ed with brains and, 
starting out a wreck, he came back a tough- 
handed deep-water man. 

It was close to six bells by that time. Chips 
had set out the running lights and was getting 
the big pump ready, having sounded the well 
and reported a foot of water. 

"Starboard watch below for tucker!" ordered 
the mate; and then turning to the men of his 
watch, he ordered, "Man the pump!" 



OUTWARD BOUND 23 

It was dark as we bent to the cranks of the 
big pump, and with the hum of wind and the 
swish of water in our ears we reahzed that we 
were truly at sea, insignificant mortals riding on 
the low deck of a vast fabric of wood and canvas, 
venturing far from land on the mighty stretches 
of the Western Ocean. 

That first night at the pump, forerunner of 
many, many other nights, our little band of 
watch mates toiled in silence, except for a few 
monosyllables. Four men to each crank, two on 
a side, facing each other, our tired arms and 
backs reciprocated to the action of rotation like 
so many toy figures actuated by some hidden 
clockwork ; the new labor was almost a rest after 
the constant pulling and hauling of the day. 
Finally the low, raucous wheezing of the valves 
told us we were sucking air, and the mate, from 
the darkness of the poop, called out, "Belay 
pump!" 

It is the custom of the sea, handed down from 
time immemorial, that "The captain takes her 
out and the mate brings her back." That is, the 
first regular watch at sea is taken by the cap- 
tain's watch on the outward passage, and the 
same watch is taken by the port, or mate's watch, 
on the start for home. Of course the second mate 



24 UNDER SAIL 

stands the starboard watch, except in case of 
emergency. 

Accordingly, at four bells, we went below, 
and after a hasty supper we sought our bunks 
for a brief rest before turning out for the watch 
from eight to midnight. We were tired — some 
of us, to the point of utter exhaustion — and a 
few of the older men claimed that we were being 
cheated out of our right to the first four-hour 
watch below, ours having merely been a dog 
watch of 2 hours from 6 to 8. Anyhow, what- 
ever we thought about that, nothing was said 
above a mild growling in the fo'c'sle, and as we 
tumbled out at eight bells, and both watches 
lined up in the waist to muster, the chill wind cut 
through us, and a moment later we were greeted 
by an order from aft. 

''Hands aloft to overhaul the t'gallant and 
royal buntlines!" 

Up I went on the mizzen, never caring to lag 
behind on an order to lay aloft, a piece of twine 
in my pocket. The gear was overhauled and 
stopped just below the blocks, so the buntlines 
would not chafe the sails, and at the same time 
the stops of cotton twine were frail enough to 
be easily broken. When at times they were not, 
some unlucky wight would clamber aloft at the 



OUTWARD BOUND 25 

critical moment of taking in sail amid the slat- 
ting of canvas and the most profuse showers of 
artistic abuse. 

Coming down from this task, I was in time to 
witness a burst of profanity on the part of the 
mate. "Keep moving, you beach-combing — 

! Every lousy ! I won't have 

no 'lime juice' sleeping on deck this voyage. D'ye 
hear that?" All heard, for there was a shuffle of 
weary feet about the main hatch, where several 
of the watch had perched comfortably in the 
dark, and, after a moment of indecision, sprin- 
kled with derogatory mutterings, we paired off 
in little groups of twos, walking the swaying 
deck wherever we could find places free from the 
back draft of the sails. 

Frenchy was my first chum on the Fuller ^ and 
though for periods we drifted apart, through 
sheer mutual exhaustion of our interchangeable 
ideas, yet we always came together again. Some- 
how, on the very start of the voyage, when the 
crimps and runners bade us that sad farewell 
from the port of New York, we were drawn to- 
gether. The night that we paired off, on our 
first watch at sea, it seemed natural that Frenchy 
and I should elect to stump the deck in company. 
We preempted a path from the lee main pin rail 



26 



UNDER SAIL 








OUTWARD BOUND 27 

to the after end of the forward house. "It's bet- 
ter here than anywhere," remarked Frenchy, and 
I soon found he was right, as we missed the draft 
from the mains'l and were partly sheltered by 
the house on the forward leg of our walk. 

Frenchy was a heavy-whiskered, ruddy speci- 
men, sporting the square-cut beard of the French 
sailor. He was an ex-naval man, and one time 
prison guard in the penal settlement of New Cal- 
edonia. Trained to the sea since boyhood, in 
the fishing fleet of Dunkirk, for many years a 
rigger in the naval yards at Brest, a sailor man 
on every type of craft from the Mediterranean 
ybeck to a ship. Victor Mathes was one of the 
finest types of the Gallic seaman. 

His life was a vague and many folded nebula 
of romance. He was full of stories of the life in 
New Caledonia, of the discipline on the outly- 
ing islands, of punitive expeditions, and of the 
intrigues and jealousies among the checkered 
lives that wear themselves away in those distant 
places. 

Night after night we paced the deck during 
the long, cold watches, and between the calls to 
man this rope or that, and the horsing and rustl- 
ing about that was always indulged in, we 
swapped information of all kinds, related all 



28 UNDER SAIL 

sorts of experiences, truthful and otherwise, and 
each man explored his mental storehouse for the 
amusement and benefit of his chum. For hours 
at a time Frenchy would talk of good things to 
eat; this was a hobby, in fact a sort of passion, 
with him and often drove me to the verge of dis- 
traction. He would go into the minutest detail 
of how his sister Madeleine, back in Dunkirk, 
prepared some particular dish, telling not only of 
the delightful flavor and succulent qualities, but 
he would go into the subject of the way things 
smelled, roast fowl, with all sorts of fancy stuff- 
ing. My mouth would water at these cruel re- 
citals and I know that Frenchy suffered as much 
as I did at the poignant recollections of gastro- 
nomic joys long past. 



CHAPTER II 

THE OUTWARD PASSAGE 

WHEN well clear of the coast we roused 
the bower anchors up on the fo'c'sle head 
and lashed them. "A sure sign, sonny, that you 
are off soundings," said Brenden; "these wind 
wagons don't take no chances till they get a safe 
offing." The cables were unshackled, and the 
ends stoppered abaft the wildcats. Canvas coats 
were put on to them, just over the chain pipes 
leading to the locker. "Jackasses" were then 
bowsed into the hawse holes for fair, taking the 
"tails" to the windlass. With the ground tackle 
secured, the "cat" and "fish" were unrove, and 
this gear stowed away in the fore peak. We had 
entered upon the real deepwater stage of the 
voyage, with lee shores, and soundings, many 
miles away. 

The Fuller * carried a complement of sixteen 

* Data re A. J. Fuller. 

Ship A. J. Fuller. 

Flint and Co. The California Clipper Line, Owners. 

29 



30 UNDER SAIL 

hands forward, and a "boy," not counting the 
"idlers" — that is, the carpenter, cook and cabin 
steward — a small enough crew for a vessel dis- 
placing in the neighborhood of 2,500 tons, dead 
weight, a craft 229 feet between perpendiculars, 
4ll/) feet beam and 23 feet depth of hold, ship 
rigged, with sky-sails, royals, single t'gans'ls, 
double tops'ls, and courses. Her main yard was 
90 feet from tip to tip. A crojik was carried as 
well as a spanker. On her stays, she carried fly- 
ing jib, jib tops'l, jib and fore topmast stays'l, 
main t'gallant stays'l, main topmast stays'l. Miz- 
zen t'gallant stays'l and a main spencer com- 
pleted her spread of canvas. When on a wind, 
in a whole-sail breeze, with crojik furled, and 
spanker set, the ship Fuller spread twenty-five 
kites to the wind. 

Now think of the handsome way in which they 
manned their ships in the olden days of the tea 
clippers when a vessel half her size would carry 
fortT/ men forward! And a vessel of equal size 

Signal letters J.V.G.B. International Code. 
Built at Bath, Maine, 1881, of wood. 

Gross tonnage 1,848.76 

Net " 1,781.88 

Length 229.3ft. 

Breadth 41.5 " 

Draft (mean) 17.8 " 

Depth of hold 23.0 " 



THE OUTWARD PASSAGE 31 



Ship AJ.Fuller of New York 

BUILJ AT BATH MAJN£ 1681 




BUMPWtl 

HXrtH TO UGARETTE 



DECK PLAn 



IWWIir HEADS 



Fo'c-SLE CAPSTAN 



BITTi 
MATCH 

fort mast 
• fife: rail 

CHAnnELS 
FO'C'SLE 

Lonc BOAT /■Fcfc'SUE 

wHAUr . SAn. LOCKER 

UUP . 
FORVARO HOUSE <«';Pl""^R»«"' 

ChaMis Noble. 

(ialU^ Sir»t<. 8tiMK> 

aUiE PUMPS 



MAIN HATCH 

MAIM MAST 
PUMP * WEy. 
MfllH FIFE RAIL 
CHAHMELS 

MAirt DEC< CAP5TAn 

6ITTS 

BOOBY HATCH 

BREAlt or- POOP 

CIS 

FO^\VA(lt> CABJn SKYUCHT 



MfZZrn MAST 

CHAItnELS 

Arira cABiri skyucht 

COTIPAMlOlt 

WHEEL & BintlAClE 
SKY UGHT 
WHEEL HOUSE 
TAFF RAIL 

►_ v>«i^.^ ■A^a&.JJUs... 



32 UNDER SAIL 

would carry from 80 to 90 seamen. As it was, 
we were hard put to it in an emergency and "all 
hands" was the rule on every occasion demand- 
ing quick work, in going about, or in making or 
taking in sail. When tacking it was "all hands, 
and the cook at the fore sheet." One watch could 
not hoist the main upper tops'l, except in the fin- 
est kind of weather, and then only by taking the 
halyards to the main deck capstan, and "inching" 
the great yard up in slow and painful fashion 
with much singing and ''yo ho'' ing. 

Captain Nichols shaped a course well to the 
eastward, fetching almost to the Azores, before 
hauling his wind aft and squaring away for an 
easy run through the N. E. trades, Skysails and 
flying jib were up and down a score of times a day 
at this restless stage of the voyage, for every rag 
was kept drawing to the last moment. In squally 
weather, and we had plenty of it, the ship would 
race along, her lee scuppers boiling in white water 
as she heeled to the blast, hands standing by at 
the halyards, which were always flaked down clear 
for running, and every mother's son keyed to a 
high pitch, ready for quick work at braces, clew- 
lines and buntlines. 

To have a "wheel" or a "lookout" during the 
night watch was a rest, although the trick at the 



THE OUTWARD PASSAGE 38 

helm was a wideawake job, whether on a course, 
or "by the wind." I had a fondness for steering 
and often stood the wheel for Frenchy or Bren- 
den, especially during the daytime when they 
were employed on sailor jobs that no one else of 
our watch was able to do. The mate winked at 
this practice, and as they often let me take their 
tricks at night, I was able to side step a lot of the 
skysail climbing that would ordinarily have fallen 
to me as the youngster of the watch. 

My training on the old St. Mary's now stood 
me in good stead, and by remembering a lot of the 
advice given me by that prince of sailor-men, old 
Bos'un Dreilick of the schoolship,* I found my- 
self rated with the best men in the ship, and far 
ahead of such fellows as Scouse, and Joe, and 
Martin, who were strong as bulls, but knew noth- 
ing. In between us ranged Australia and Fred, 
good ordinary sailors who knew the ropes, could 
hand, reef, and steer, but lacked that finished 
technique so essential to the proper able seaman. 
I must admit that in classing myself with men 
like Marshall, Frenchy, and Brenden, I am do- 
ing so at the tail end of this trio, and then only 
because of my skill at the helm, at heaving the 
"blue pigeon," and at sailing and handling boats, 

* Now Boatswain of the Schoolship Newport. 



34 UNDER SAIL 

accomplishments that, except for steering, are 
rare among deep water sailors. 

"You seem to stand the wheel a lot," the Skip- 
per remarked one night, having noted me by the 
dim light of the binnacle, for I also had done a 
trick in the first dog watch when he happened to 
change the course. 

The Old Man grinned, "Well, I suppose you 
like to be aft. Keep at it, boy, and you'll get 
there. But it's a lonesome life ; dammit, I would 
rather be a farmer any day." 

Captain Nichols thought this a great joke, the 
idea of being a farmer pleased him so he had a 
good laugh as he surveyed the great spread of 
canvas bowling along under his command. I 
felt sure he was joking. Since then, I have often 
pondered over his remark and am now of the 
opinion that he was in dead earnest. 

Standing lookout on the fo'c'sle head was a 
favorite duty that no one delegated. Finally, 
however, when we were well clear of the coast, 
the mates began to pull down the lookout when- 
ever there was any work to be done. There al- 
ways was considerable, for the mates would start 
something as soon as they felt the least bit sleepy 
and would horse their watches about even though 



THE OUTWARD PASSAGE 35 

it was absolutely unnecessary to start a single 
rope. 

Our fare on the Fuller was of the regular deep 
water variety, made palatable by the fact that we 
were living the open air life of a lot of human go- 
rillas. Our labors were torture, to me at least, un- 
til at last the outraged muscles adjusted them- 
selves to the unaccustomed work. Poor Peter, 
he was a hundred times harder hit than I, and 
the four hours below were barely enough to keep 
him alive. One night, a few days after leaving 
port, when we mustered at midnight, Peter was 
not to be found. "Was he called?" thundered the 
mate, as Old Smith reported him "not present," 
doing so in a hesitating sort of way. "Was that 

called ?" again thundered the mate. "By — - 

I'll call him!" he shouted, and strode forward, the 
second mate following. Peter lay half out of his 
bunk, one leg over the edge. He had fallen back 
exhausted as soon as he got his trousers on; he 
was dead to the cruel, hard world. 

Mr. Zerk grabbed him by the leg, and, swing- 
ing him like a bag of meal, he yanked Peter clear 
through the fo'c'sle door, landing him on the deck 
with a thud, amid a shower of curses and the 
startled cry of the victim. 

This type of brutality was calculated to "put 



36 



UNDER SAIL 



the fear of God into us," as they say, and to 
strengthen discipline, and add snap and vigor to 
our movements. It certainly had the effect of 
showing us how important it was to be in the 
waist w^hen the watch was mustered. 

At the morning washdown the black slops that 
went by the name of coffee tasted like the very 
nectar of the gods. We dipped in with our hook 
pots, drinking it with relish, and the fact that it 
possessed mild cathartic properties, may have had 
something to do with the excellent state of our 
health. Cockroaches were not mentioned in the 
old scale of provisions * adopted by a kind Con- 

* The following is the Scale of Provisions allowed and served out to 
the Crew during the voyage in addition to the daily issue of lime and 
lemon juice and sugar, or other antiscorbutics in any case required by 
law. 





Bread 
lb. 


Beef 
lb. 


Pork 
lb. 


Flour 
lb. 


IPeas Ri 
pt. p 


ce Barley 
t. pt. 


Tea 
oz. 


Coffee 
oz. 


Sugar 
oz. 


Water 
qt. 


Sunday .... 
Monday . . . 
Tuesday . . . 
Wednesday. 
Thursday . . 

Friday 

Saturday.. . 




IK2 




'A 


1^ ' 






Vs 

Vs 
Vs 


'A 


2 
2 
2 
2 
2 
2 
2 


3 
3 
3 
3 
3 
3 
3 



SUBSTITUTES 

One ounce of coffee or cocoa or chocolate may be substituted for one 
quarter ounce of tea; molasses for sugar, the quantity to be one half 
more; one pound of potatoes or yams; one half pound of flour or rice; 
one third pint of peas or one quarter pint of barley may be substituted 
for each other. 



THE OUTWARD PASSAGE 37 

gress for the nourishment of the simple sailor 
man. This was no doubt an oversight on the part 
of some bucolic "sailor's friend," for tliey might 
have specified that "one ounce of cockroaches 
may be substituted for an ounce of tea." 

Our tea was never without these disgusting 
vermin and none of us was ever able to tell what 
gave it the peculiar flavor that we came to relish 
— the twigs and leaves floating about in the 
brown liquor, or the roaches lying drowned in 
the bottom of the can. 

"They's no worse nor shrimps," philosophized 
Jimmy Marshall, and we tried to believe him. 

The cook, an ancient Celestial named Chow, 
hailing from Hong Kong, had evidently put all 
of his gods behind him. His pigtail was gone, 
and with it all sense of decency, so far as prepar- 
ing food for sailormen was concerned. Those 
human precepts that all cooks are supposed to 
act upon, the ethics, if you will, of the noble pro- 

WHen fresh meat is issued, the proportion to be two pounds per man, 
per day, in lieu of salt meat. 

Flour, rice, and peas, beef and pork, may be substituted for each 
other, and for potatoes onions may be substituted. 

Note by Author.— The above is from the fo'c'sle card of the ship 
A. J. Fuller, taken' when I left her. This scale of provisions was greatly 
amplified a few years later. It was found that a shipmaster sticking 
close to the law in the matter of provisioning could easily starve a crew, 
as there was no control over quality. On the Fuller, the owners were 
liberal in provisioning. Such trouble as we had was due to the condi- 
tions of deepwater voyages. 



38 UNDER SAIL 

fession, that Marryat tells us entitled the prac- 
titioner to wear a sword, in those good old days 
when the Admiralty recognized the cook, were 
lacking in the breast of Chow. He was a typi- 
cal deepwater cook. What went aft was right, 
so far as looks count anyway, but the kids that 
left for the fo'c'sle often contained the most un- 
savory messes that ill-fortune can concoct. Some 
of the men had words with Chow about this but 
the result was increased carelessness and de- 
creased portions. 

"It don't do no good to scrap with the cook," 
was Jimmy Marshall's sage advice. "If the dirty 
bum wants to be dirty he can fix us all up. I 

knowed a cook once wot in the soup an' bully 

on a English bark. The skipper, he caught him 
at it, an' puts him in irons. The cook had to be 
let out though because he was the only one wot 
could do the work, an' they was mighty careful 
aft not to rile him after they knowed wot he was. 
You got to leave them cooks alone." 

We left Chow severely alone, and some of the 
crowd, Joe and Tommy especially, constituted 
themselves his volunteer assistants, and almost 
every first dog watch, one of them would be 
around the galley helping out. Chow rewarded 
them by allowing the use of the oven to make 



THE OUTWARD PASSAGE 39 

"dandy funk," a mess of broken hard tack and 
molasses, baked to a crisp. 

When ten days had elapsed, after the final ra- 
tions of fresh provisions had been issued, a tot of 
lime juice, that reeked suspiciously of vinegar, 
was served each day — by Act of Congress — to 
keep the sailor man from getting scurvey. At 
the same time the "harness casks," beef to star- 
board, and pork to port, did their duty nobly and 
each week or so we would lift the fore hatch and 
rouse up a slimy, wooden hooped barrel, and roll 
it aft to the galley door, alternating to the port 
and starboard harness casks. 

After a month of chumming it with Frenchy, 
talking steadily from three to four hours a night, 
we were both pretty well cleaned out of experi- 
ences and ideas. Other groups had long before 
reached that deplorable state, and new combina- 
tions were formed in the night walks on deck. 
One night as we came on deck in the mid-watch, 
Frenchy and I noticed Jimmy Marshall and 
Martin standing at the lee of the main hatch, in 
silence, after the watch had been mustered. The 
absence of their usual animated discussions of 
everything temporal and mundane attracted our 
attention. Soon we found ourselves at the lee 
of the hatch; Martin and Jimmy warmed up to 



40 UNDER SAIL 

us and presently Jimmy and myself were walk- 
ing just aft of the forward house, and Martin 
and Frenchy began to pace the deck to wind- 
ward. 

Jimmy was a new sort of chum and the poor- 
est listener I have ever met, which may have ac- 
counted for the peculiar one sided laj^ of his mind. 
The hard knocks of experience were alone ac- 
countable for his knowledge, varied and pictur- 
esque in the telling. He was chockful of religion 
and was constantly repenting the bad deeds of 
his youth, telMng them at great length, and with 
such relish, that it seemed they had come to be 
his one unfailing source of enjoyment. A ter- 
rible drunk in his day, he had also indulged in 
robbery, having looted a house in Australia while 
tramping overland to Sydney from Port Hun- 
ter, where he had "jumped" a schooner, leaving 
everything behind, because of a row with the 
mate, in which he felled him with a handspike. 

"Walked away with a piece o' change an' a 
whole kit o' dunnage," was the way he put it. 

And also, according to his story, Jimmy had 
been a lightweight fighter in his youth, many, 
many years before. He was the best chantey- 
man in the crew; to hear him "sing" a rope was 
an inspiration to tired arms and backs. 



THE OUTWARD PASSAGE 41 




■ M i wiMimm iiiiiii ni iii i i i i Hi tni— — n 




— \U*^w.u« 'W^.^.^S^^JiSU-^ 



^■■»«gTj»-..nc.mj>ji-.mi, ..nn^i.A.«.«n« TI H' i TT'iiyrr^nmr 



42 UNDER SAIL 

While memory lasts, the picture of our first 
chantey, a few days after leaving port, will re- 
main with me as one of the great thrills that 
have come my way. A heavy squall in the fore- 
noon watch sent all of our tops'l yards to the 
caps, everything coming down by the run, to hang 
slatting in the gear. Skj^sails, royals, flying jib, 
t'gans'ls, jib tops'l, jib, fore topmast stays'], 
and then the upper tops'ls were lowered, the lat- 
ter thrashing and straining against the down- 
hauls as the ship heeled to it almost on her beam 
ends, gaining headway with a rush, and righting 
herself as we spilled the wind from the bulging 
canvas. 

Passing as quickly as it came, the squall left 
us wallowing under lower tops'ls, the courses 
hanging in their gear. 

All hands were called to make sail, and as we 
manned the main tops'l halyards Jimmy Mar- 
shall jumped to the pin rail, and with one leg 
over the top of the bulwark, he faced the line of 
men tailing along the deck. 

"A chantey, boys!" shouted Mr. Stoddard as 
he took his place "beforehand" on the rope. 
"Come now, run her up, lads. Up! Up!" and 
the heavy yard commenced to creep along the 
mast to the sound of the creaking parral, the com- 



THE OUTWARD PASSAGE 43 

plaining of the blocks, and the haunting deep 
sea tune of "Blow the Man Down," greatest of 
all the two haul chanteys. 

Jimmy — "Now rouse her right up boys for Liverpool 

town," 
Sailors — "Go way — way — blow the man down." 
Jimmy — "We'll blow the man up and blow the man down," 
Sailors — "Oh, give us some time to blow the man down." 
Jimmy — "We lay off the Island of Maderc?egascar." 
Sailors — "Hi ! Ho ! Blow the man down." 
Jimmy — "We lowered three anchors to make her hold 

faster," 
Sailors — "Oh, give us some time to blow the man down." 

Chorus 
All hands — "Then we'll blow the man up. 
And we'll blow the man down. 
Go way — way — blow the man down. 
We'll blow him right over to Liverpool town, 
Oh, give us some time to blow the man down. 
Ho ! Stand by your braces, 
And stand by your falls; 
Hi! Ho! Blow the man down, 
We'll blow him clean over to Liverpool town. 
Oh, give us some time to blow the man down." 

Old Marshall faced to windward, his mustache 
lifting in the breeze, the grey weather worn 
fringe of hair bending up over his battered nose. 
He always sang with a full quid in his cheek, and 



44 UNDER SAIL 

the absence of several front teeth helped to give 
a peculiar deep-sea quality to his voice. 

"We have a man-o-war crew aboard, Mr. 
Zerk!" shouted the Captain from the top of the 
cabin, where he had come out to see the fun. 

"Aye, aye, sir! Some crew!" returned the 
Mate, looking over us with a grim smile. 



CHAPTER III 

CHRISTMAS DAY ON THE HIGH SEAS 

LIFE was not always so pleasant on board 
the Fuller. Hard words were the common 
run of things and the most frightful and artistic 
profanity often punctuated the working of the 
ship. Given a ship's company barely strong 
enough to handle a two thousand five hundred 
ton three-skysail yarder, even had they all been 
seasoned able seamen, our officers had to contend 
with a crew over half of which rated below that 
of the "ordinary" classification of seamanship, 
thick skinned clodhoppers, all thumbs on a dark 
night, and for many weeks after leaving port, as 
useless as so much living ballast. The kicking 
and moulding into form of this conglomerate 
mass of deep sea flotsam, gathered for the ship 
by the boarding masters, and duly signed on the 
ship's articles as A.B., called for all but super- 
human efforts. The curse is far more potent than 
the gentle plea, especially when hard fists and 
hobnailed sea boots are backed by all of the age 

45 



46 UNDER SAIL 

old authority of the sea. To work a ship of the 
proportions of the Fuller, with seventeen hands 
forward, called for man driving without thought 
of anything but the work required. 

The latter days of the sailing ship as a carrier, 
before invoking the aid of steam auxiliary appa- 
ratus, in the hoisting and hauling, brought forth 
the brute sea officer aft, and the hardened fo'c'sle 
crowd, half sailor and half drudge, forward. The 
"bucko mate" walked her decks, and the jack tar, 
stripped of his pigtail, his bell mouthed canvas 
trousers, his varnished sailor hat, and his grog, 
remained in plain dungaree and cotton shirt to 
work the biggest sailing craft in the history of the 
world on the last hard stages of their storm 
tossed voyages. 

Mixed with our real sailors were the worthless 
(so far as sea lore went) scrapings of the water- 
front. Shipped by the boarding masters for the 
benefit of their three months' "advance," and 
furnished for sea with rotten kits of dunnage, 
as unreliable and unfitted for the work as the 
poor unfortunate dubs who were forced by an 
unkind fate to wear them. 

On the other hand, the real sailor men of the 
crew were valued accordingly, and I can hardly 
remember an instance where either one of the 



CHRISTMAS ON THE HIGH SEAS 47 

mates singled out for abuse those men who had 
shipped as A.B. and were so in fact. My school- 
ship training {St. Mary's '97) stood by me, and 
though barely turned eighteen, I was saved from 
most of the drudgery meted out to the farmers 
of the watch. 

After washing through the heavy seas we en- 
countered for the first few weeks of the voyage, 
while beating off the coast on the long reach east- 
ward to the Azores, the long hard pine sweep of 
the main deck became slippery with a deposit 
of white salt-water slime. The sheen of this 
scum, in the moonlight, under a film of running 
water, gave the decks a ghastly "Flying Dutch- 
man" like appearance, and the footing became 
so precarious that something had to be done. 

"They have the 'bear' out," Scouse announced, 
as he trudged into the fo'c'sle carrying a "kid" of 
cracker hash, ditto of burgoo, a can of coffee, and 
a bag of hard tack, this cargo of sustenance be- 
ing our regulation breakfast menu. 

"The bear?" I asked, as we gathered about this 
appetizing spread. 

"Yes, the bear," volunteered Brenden, grin- 
ning with the rest of the sailors. "The bear for 
Scouse, and Joe, and Martin, and Fred." 

At eight bells, as we mustered aft, a subdued 



48 UNDER SAIL 

banter went on among the men. The starboard 
watch were all grinning, and as they went below 
four sheepish looking fellows of the other side 
turned the "bear" over to the farmers of our 
watch. "Keep that jackass baby carriage mov- 
ing now. D'ye hear me? Keep it moving!" bel- 
lowed the mate, for there was some reluctance in 
taking hold, and as Scouse and Martin tailed on, 
opposed to Joe and Fred, the doleful scrape of 
the bear mingled with the general laughter at the 
mate's sally. 

The bear consisted of a heavy box, a thick 
thrum mat lashed on the bottom of it, and the 
inside loaded with broken holy stones and charged 
with wet sand. Four stout rope lanyards were 
rigged to the corners and served to haul the thing 
back and forth while the sand filtered down 
through the mat, providing the necessary scour- 
ing agent. A day or two with the bear in con- 
stant service, both day and night, cleaned up the 
decks and provided us with considerable amuse- 
ment, that is, those of us who were lucky enough 
to be kept at more dignified jobs. 

Ships leaving the Atlantic Coast in the winter 
months bend their best suit of sails. The severe 
weather usually encountered in working clear of 
the land, and the chance of having to ratch off 



CHRISTMAS ON THE HIGH SEAS 49 




agfcBiTwagwiaWBagMf 



50 UNDER SAIL 

from a lee shore, make this precaution one of 
great importance. The fact that green crews are 
bound to be more or less slow in taking in sail 
during squalls may also account for the "storm 
suit" under which we sailed from port. 

On our first night out, shortly before one bell 
in the mid watch, our crowd having just gone be- 
low, the fore topmast stays'l blew from the bolt 
ropes with the report of a cannon. We had al- 
ready clambered into our bunks, dog tired, when 
this occurred, and muttered oaths, anticipating a 
call of "all hands," came from untold depths of 
weariness within the fo'c'sle. On deck there was 
the hurried tramping of feet, and the shouting of 
the second mate. We could hear the long wail 
of the men at brace and downhaul, the "Ah-hee- 
Oh-hee-ah-Ho !" with all of its variation as the 
slaves of the ropes launched their age-old com- 
plaint on the whipping winds. I lapsed into slum- 
ber with the dim consciousness that the second 
mate was handling the situation alone, and a 
heartfelt thanks for the warmth of the blankets 
in my narrow bunk; a foot above me the cold 
rain pattered against the roof of the fo'c'sle 
house, its music mingling with the swish of the 
water under the fore channels. 



CHRISTMAS ON THE HIGH SEAS 51 

After three weeks of beating to the eastward, 
having fetched ahnost as far across as the Azores, 
and being in the region of the northern limit of 
the N. E. trades, the captain hauled his wind 
and squared away for the run through the trade 
wind belt to the doldrums and the line. Fine 
weather became the order of the day and life on 
board settled down to a more regular routine. 

On a Saturday morning, the day having 
broken remarkably fine, a brilliant red sunset fol- 
lowed by a cold grey dawn, assuring us of the 
settled weather that the steady "glass" made more 
certain, all the world seemed ready to rejoice, 
for it was Christmas Day. Word was passed 
into the fo'c'sle by the other watch, as we turned 
out for our breakfast, "We shift sail today. 

"All hands on deck for us, me boys!" piped 
Australia. "An' the first watch on deck to- 
night," chipped in Jimmy Marshall, "an' a hell 
of a Christmas Day!" 

Jimmy lit his pipe for a morning puff; climb- 
ing into his bunk, he dangled his short legs over 
the frowsy head of big Scouse who sat with his 
dejected poll bent under the upper bunk board, 
a fair sample of the despondent crowd of farm- 
ers who faced a Christmas Day of labor. 



52 UNDER SAIL 

"A hell of a Christmas Day^ boys, 
A hell of a Christmas Day, 
For we are bound for the bloody Horn 
Ten thousand miles away." 

Jimmy rendered this little ditty of cheerfulness 
as Fred picked up the breakfast kids and started 
for the galley, while we turned out on the sun- 
splashed planks as the last of eight bells vibrated 
over the ship. She lay still in a near calm like a 
scene by Turner, all of her canvas hanging in 
picturesque festoons from the jackstays, where 
the starboard watch had cast off the courses and 
tops'ls, leaving them depending in their gear. 
The decks had not been washed down, in order to 
keep them dry, and the mate himself had turned 
out at four bells to start the ball rolling. 

Long bundles of the fine weather canvas were 
stretched on the decks ready for swaying aloft. 
Working like demons in the forenoon, and with 
all hands on deck after dinner, which was dis- 
patched in haste, we had the courses, and in turn 
the tops'ls and light sails, lowered to the deck, 
and the gantlines rigged to hoist the summer 
canvas ; this we sent aloft in record time. These 
old sails, soft and mellow, veterans of a dozen 
voyages, patched and repatched, with whole new 
cloths of a lighter grade here and there streak- 



CHRISTMAS ON THE HIGH SEAS 53 

ing the dull white-weathered surface, were as 
smooth and pliable as a baby's bonnet. 

On some of them, the fore upper tops'l espe- 
cially, we found records of the many crews who 
had handled them before. "James Brine, Liver- 
pool. On his last voyage," was one inscription. 
I hope Brine achieved his end and stayed ashore. 
A date under this was hardly decipherable but 
may have been Jan., June, or July, the day the 
eighth, and the year 1893. 

Bending a sail calls for the nicest knowledge; 
the passing of the head earing must be done in 
a certain manner, so the head of the sail will hold 
well up on the yard arm; the gear, consisting of 
tacks, sheets, clew garnets, and buntlines, in the 
case of a "course," not to mention the leechlines, 
and bowlines, must all be rove and rigged just 
so. The "robands" or pieces of rope yarn, are all 
looped through the "head holes" ready for bend- 
ing the sail to the iron jackstay on the yard, and 
when a sailor does the job, all goes as smooth as 
a wedding when the parson knows his job. 

After the labors of a busy day, the ship pre- 
sented the comfortable well-patched appearance 
of a man in the woods, free from the stiffness of 
new white linen, and naturally fitting into the 
familiar folds of old duds, unconventional but 



54 UNDER SAIL 

plenty good enough. The bright spars still at- 
tested to her "smartness," but we were in easy 
trade wind weather and dressed accordingly. The 
fores'l was particularly large, with extra clothes 
in the leeches, made to catch and hold every 
breath of wind blowing over the deck. 

The sail locker was re-stowed with our "best 
suit," and between the coils of canvas we liber- 
ally spread a bundle of old newspapers brought 
out by the mate. "To give the rats something 
to chew on," he remarked, as we ran the stiff new 
canvas in, tier upon tier. 

One thing that Frenchy called my attention 
to in the stowing of the locker was the fact that 
the storm canvas, lower tops'ls and stays'ls, were 
placed handy for immediate removal, the mate 
assuring himself of this fact by personal super- 
vision; indeed he knew just where each particular 
sail was located in the locker, and could go in and 
lay his hand upon it in the darkest night, as he 
more than once demonstrated during the course 
of the voyage. 

That night a tired lot of men sat down to sup- 
per. The cold salt beef, the hard bread and the 
can of tea came from the galley in their usual 
order. Fred, who was mess cook for that week, 
went back to the galley, after depositing the reg- 



CHRISTMAS ON THE HIGH SEAS 55 

Illation Saturday night grub. As he left the 
fo'c'sle door he turned back at us with a grin on 
his wide good natured face, bristling with uneven 
outcroppings of yellow stubble. Fred reminded 
me of an amiable plodder hulking out in his dun- 
garee jacket, while the watch fell to on the beef 
and tack. 

"I guess he forgot to thank the cook for put- 
ting so many bugs in the tea," ventured Brenden. 

"Maybe he's going aft to take Christmas Din- 
ner with the captain in the cabin. They have a 
real plum pudding there; I saw it in the galley," 
said Joe. 

Plum pudding ! Christmas ! The thoughts of 
loved ones far away, and of those distant homes 
that perhaps were remembering some of us out 
on the broad bosom of the deep waters, came as 
a pang. All of us, I believe, felt this. For a mo- 
ment or two silence ensued, then Fred burst 
through the fo'c'sle door with the big surprise. 

'''Piej, hoys! PieT he shouted, depositing three 
tin plates on the fo'c'sle deck, for we dined with 
the deck as a table, sitting about the kids on low 
benches. The precious pie was cut with the 
greatest regard for equality by no less an expert 
hand than that of Frenchy, assisted by Australia, 
who showed us how to cut a pie into three parts 



66 UNDER SAIL 

by measuring across the diameter with a knife, 
adding a little to this, and then this length went 
three times into the circumference. 

Jimmy Marshall failed to agree with this the- 
ory; but was fairly beaten in the result, for Aus- 
tralia was right. The pie certainly was cut into 
three very equal parts. 

"An engineer in the mines showed me this," 
said Australia. "He says, 'Pie times across the 
pie, is all the way around.' Mathematics is wot 
he calls this." Australia was nearly right at that, 
and the marks he made on the crust of the confec- 
tions baked by Chow served as a reliable guide 
for Frenchy, also bolstering him immensely in the 
eyes of the more humble members of the port 
watch. That Australia chap certainly knew a 
thing or two, even if he was not the best sailor 
in the world. 

But Jimmy Marshall's comment was simply, 
"Rats!" 

After supper, when pipes were glowing, and 
most of us sought our bunks for the hour or so 
that remained to us in the last dog watch, a dis- 
cussion arose as to what kind of pie it was. 
Frenchy, the great gastronomic authority, 
claimed it was English currant pie. "They taste 



CHRISTMAS ON THE HIGH SEAS 57 

so bitter, that's why I know," he added with an 
air of finahty. 

Others differed with him. Scouse said it was 
red crabapple pie. Martin claimed it was noth- 
ing but plmn pie. I thought it tasted like cran- 
berry, but was not sure. At last, to settle the 
matter, and at the earnest request of the crabbed 
Jimmy, Fred trudged aft to the galley to consult 
Chow and wind up the argument. He returned 
in triumph with a large tin can done up in a 
gaudy red label marked "Pie Fruit." 

Shortly after entering the N. E. trades we 
encountered the region of tropic rains, of daily 
thunder storms, and of abundant drinking and 
washing water. We rigged an old sail over the 
gallows frame in the main deck to catch the rain, 
which was teemed through a canvas pipe to the 
main tank, a large upright iron cylinder stand- 
ing on the keelson blocks in the main hold just 
abaft of the main mast. Our allowance of three 
quarts a day, per man, was anything but satis- 
fying in the tropic atmosphere of the torrid zone. 
At least half of this "whack" of water went to 
the galley for use in the preparation of food and 
the rest was divided between the scuttle butt and 
the water barrel, from which it was drawn spar- 



58 UNDER SAIL 

ingly for washing purposes ; usually a mere rinse 
to clean off the salt of a sea water scrub. 

In the extreme heat, during the frequent pe- 
riods of calm, our suffering through the lack of 
waier became intense. The Fuller, like many 
other ships sailing from New York, put to sea 
with her water tank barely a quarter full, relying 
on the tropic rains to replenish the supply. When 
the rains did finally come we fairly reveled in the 
luxury of abundant fresh water, drinking, wash- 
ing clothes, bathing, and just plain wasteful wal- 
lowing in the refreshing element. With the first 
douse of rain all hands turned out on deck to fill 
their pannikins under the spouting drains from 
the forward house. 

The conduct of a deep water sailing voyage 
in the old days of wooden ships called for what 
today would be considered the highest type of 
scientific management. In the maintenance of 
the vessel, each part of the complicated fabric 
received its due attention at some particular point 
in the voyage where the weather was favorable 
for that certain operation. So in the entry to 
the rainy belt, that uncertain region of the dol- 
drums where almost constant precipitation takes 
turn about with calm or light baffling winds, we 
were turned loose on the job of scrubbing paint 



CHRISTMAS ON THE HIGH SEAS 59 

work. The work was started aft and each watch 
did its own side of the ship, there being much 
rivalry as to who was doing the most work. 
Everybody took a hand in this and Brenden and 
Marshall would curse unmercifully at the job 
when well out of earshot of the after guard. Our 
hands became wrinkled with the constant wet, the 
calloused flesh getting soft and cheesy, while our 
oilskins, in which we worked during the worst 
downpours, became soaked and clammy through 
constant use. 

We were not allowed the bucket of classic 
*'sewgee'' of the steam ship sailor, a mixture of 
caustic soda, soft soap and water, but were pro- 
vided with nothing but a small tin of brick dust 
and a rag of burlap ; a rope handled deck bucket 
and a small swab completed the outfit. Add to 
this formula an abundance of "elbow grease," 
and slithers of tropic rain, and you get paintwork 
polished smooth and white as ivory. A week or 
so, with all hands on the paintwork, whenever the 
working of the ship would permit, transformed 
her into a model of neatness. Woe to the luck- 
less wretch who by any chance marred the deck 
or paintwork with a drop of grease or tar. 

About this time we made our acquaintance 
with the flying fish, these swift travellers often 



60 UNDER SAIL 

shooting over our deck at night and being caught 
in the belly of one of the courses or the spanker. 
A flying fish for breakfast is not bad, and many 
were caught by the men on deck keeping a sharp 
lookout for them. The mates were also watch- 
ing for the bag of flying fish and whenever one 
landed on the poop or in the waist, one or the 
other of the mates would call out and have a hand 
bring the fish aft. 

One night a fish landed somewhere in the waist. 
We could hear the wet splatter of the flying fins, 
as it was calm and the deck quiet. Mr. Zerk, 
who was leaning against the weather swifter of 
the mizzen shrouds, roused himself and called out 
for someone to bring the fish aft. 

Several of the watch started to search for the 
visitor, for we also had heard him land, but with- 
out success. 

"How about that fish?" shouted the mate, af- 
ter a decent interval, while the search was going 
on. 

"Can't find it, sir," Joe piped up. 

"The hell you can't!" thundered the mate. 
"There he is," and again we heard a faint "splash, 
splash" of the wings. 

"Get a light, you damn fools," was the order, 
for it was mighty dark. "Come now quick. 



CHRISTMAS ON THE HIGH SEAS 61 



V 




"A 



■ ■ im « Bi i i. <fcii>«3— jaio—fi^^aB 



62 UNDER SAIL 

Pronto r and as Scouse banged on the door of 
the deck room occupied by Chips, in order to get 
him to open the lamp locker, we thought we heard 
the "splash, splash" again. 

With the aid of a lantern and all of the watch 
the entire deck was searched. Finally, Jimmy 
Marshall let out a whoop, "Here lie was! Here 
he was!" Some water on the deck, near the coils 
of rope hanging from the main pin rail, looked 
as though Jimmy was close to the flying fish. 

"Here he was!" again shouted the excited 
Jimmy, grabbing the lantern from the hand of 
Scouse. 

"Here he what?" demanded the mate, coming 
down into the waist. The mate bent over the wet 
spot and exploded in a string of oaths. "No fly- 
ing fish ever made that! Here, you!" and he 
grabbed Jimmy. "This is some of your damn 
monkey shines, you old dried up bundle of sea 

tripe! your gray hairs, I'll flying fish 

you! Lay aloft to the main skysail yard and 
watch the stars! I'll call you down on deck when- 
ever we need you !" 

For several nights after that Jimmy spent his 
time climbing up and down the main rigging, 
for no sooner would he get up than the mate 



CHKISTMAS ON THE HIGH SEAS 63 

would think of something to do that required his 
presence on deck. 

The flying fish episode furnished us with some- 
thing to talk about in the fo'c'sle, and while 
Jimmy always tried to leave the impression that 
the joke was on the mate and the rest of us, we 
felt that his over zeal in discovering the puddle 
of water in which his clever hand had simulated 
the nervous flapping of the fins of a flying fish 
had turned the tables. My idea was that Jimmy, 
after seeing how well the thing was taking, could 
not resist the temptation to get the credit. 

We also harpooned our first bonita, a very ac- 
tive, virile fish, shaped like a short double ended 
spindle buoy, and striped lengthwise. These fish 
are exceedingly lively and jump about with ter- 
rific energy when brought on deck. Before tak- 
ing this fish to the galley, Old Smith of the other 
watch, and Frenchy, and of course Jimmy Mar- 
shall, tested the meat with a silver coin, to see if 
it was of the poison variety. 

"If the silver turns black the fish is poison," 
explained Frenchy. In this case the bonita was 
pronounced "good to eat," and a great feast was 
on that night; however, I never cared much for 
fish anyway and did not touch it. Chow had cer- 



64 UNDER SAIL 

tainly made an ill looking mess of it, garnished 
with broken tack, and basted with pork fat. 

"You'll wisht you had a bit of this tucker afore 
we get to Honolulu," was the comment of Joe, 
who proceeded to help himself liberally. 



CHAPTER IV 

THE FIGHT 

AN undercurrent of trouble had been running 
for some time, finding expression in much 
subdued comment and criticism, at odd moments, 
when small groups of the watch would foregather 
about the fo'c'sle during the dog watch below. 
These dog watch hours were, during fine weather, 
given over largely to yarning, smoking, reading, 
or playing cards, or checkers, and to the perform- 
ance of such odd jobs as sailors do during their 
few leisure moments. Big George, or Scouse, 
as we called him, had become something of a 
bully, and Joe, the most independent of his sub- 
jects, had on several occasions taken pains to 
let Scouse understand that he resented the way 
in which the big fellow carried on among the far- 
mers of the watch. Of course Scouse never dared 
open his mouth to any of the real sailors, but he 
had gradually set himself up as a sort of autocrat 
among the pushers of the "bear." 

The development of this condition was so long 

65 



66 UNDER SAIL 

in process of evolution, that several times 
Frenchy and Brenden threatened to clean things 
up and put an end to the stumbling block that 
threatened our fo'c'sle democracy. Always, how- 
ever, Jimmy Marshall intervened. "Leave 'em 
alone. Things will break, see if they don't, an' 
'e'll get it good, 'e will." 

Following our siege of paint-scrubbing, we 
started to tar down the standing rigging, work 
that devolved largely upon Scouse and his gang 
of understrappers, making them the bright par- 
ticular stars in the firmament of wTath whenever, 
by any chance, they happened to drop so much as 
a pin point of tar on the immaculate paintwork 
or deck. 

The mate on these occasions outdid himself, 
and by the fluency of his language and the sur- 
prising richness of his imagery he afforded a cer- 
tain amusement to those of us who were the lis- 
teners. The targets of these profane outbursts 
had no redress, and, if they lost none of their 
self respect, it was simply because none of that 
useless commodity was left clinging to their de- 
voted hides. Scouse, Fred and Martin had re- 
ceived recent broadsides, and with half an eye 
we could see that Mr. Zerk was watching Joe 
with a view to exercising a few new epithets. 



THE FIGHT 67 

It was our afternoon watch on deck ; we turned 
out at seven bells to get our dinner, and Joe, who 
was mess carrier for that week, turned out lively 
to get the "kids" of cracker hash from the galley. 
A gentle sea was rolling in on our quarter and 
Joe entered the fo'c'sle door, the kid of cracker 
hash under his arm, the bread bag full of hard 
tack in one hand, and a large can of steaming hot 
tea in the other, the Fuller gave one of her cork- 
screw twists, and Joe stumbled over the sill, dous- 
ing Scouse with about half of the hot tea. 

Scouse was furious, and at the same time half 
of our whack of tea was running in the scuppers. 

Little things assume monstrous proportions af- 
ter a group of men have been in close quarters for 
a long time. This is particularly so when they 
have to live in such intimate and trying proxim- 
ity as that in the fo'c'sle of a sailing ship. On a 
deep-waterman, months at sea without even a 
smell of land, let alone a sight of it, the commu- 
nity life is bound to wear thin the edges of daily 
intercourse. Every small incident is magnified 
far beyond its worth, and only a trifle is needed 
to start a racket of some kind. Brenden and 
Frenchy cursed the luckless Joe for a clumsy 
lout. Jimmy called him a "bloody rum cat,'' a 
favorite expression of the little sailor, and 



68 UNDER SAIL 

Scouse, foaming with rage, was only restrained 
by the rest of us from sailing right into Joe, re- 
gardless of the cracker hash, the remaining tea, 
or anything else. Joe was equally furious. He 
refused to touch the tea, saying he had spilled 
his whack, and the rest of us might shut up our 
talk about it. 

At this Australia and Fred insisted that Joe 
have his tea, sharing with the rest. Talk became 
loud, and in the midst of the whole affair eight 
bells struck and we tumbled on deck, our dinner 
half finished. Scouse and Joe went to their 
work in the main rigging; some were to leeward 
of the deckhouse stitching sails, while I passed a 
ball of marline for Frenchy, who was serving the 
wire bolt rope of the foot of an old lower tops'l 
that we were repairing. 

He was facing aft toward the main shrouds, 
when suddenly he started, his eyes seemed to 
bulge from his head, and he dropped his serving 
mallet, while at the same time there was a bump 
behind me on the deck, and Frenchy gasped, "Ma 
foil Look, Felix!" 

I turned quickly and there on the white deck 
below the main rigging was a big black greasy 
splotch of tar, and Joe's tar pot rolling into the 
scupper. 



THE FIGHT 69 

The silence that followed was painful. Mr. 
Zerk came forward from the weather quarterbitt 
where he was smoking his after dinner pipe, and 
Joe dropped down the Jacob's ladder to the deck 
under a fire of insulting profanity from the mate. 
Whipping off his dungaree jacket, he started to 
swab up the defiling tar before it could soak well 
into the deck planks. 

Scouse, whom Frenchy saw unhitch the lan- 
yard of the pot as he worked above Joe, went 
on with his tarring without batting an eye. 
Trouble was on foot, however, in the port watch. 

We went below at eight bells, four o'clock in 
the afternoon, but Joe remained on deck to re- 
move the last vestiges of tar, and Scouse entered 
the fo'c'sle, speaking to no one. The trick played 
on Joe was so contemptible that, so far as the 
common feeling went, Scouse had placed himself 
beyond the pale, and no man cared to break the 
ice by addressing him. That big Scouse felt this 
was certain, and the fact that it hurt at least at- 
tested a few remaining embers of decent feeling. 

The first dog watch that day was unusually 
quiet, all hands mending and reading and won- 
dering what the outcome would be when Joe got 
the tar cleaned up on deck. At five bells Joe re- 
turned to the fo'c'sle with the supper, a kid of salt 



70 



UNDER SAIL 




J 



THE FIGHT 71 

pork and cabbage. Martin, who had busied him- 
self in the galley, brought in a pan of "dandy- 
funk," a baked mass of hard tack and molasses, 
a great delicacy with us and only possible at rare 
intervals when Chow would permit us to take up 
the space in his galley range. However, the 
dandy funk went begging. Joe was sullen and 
refused to touch it. Scouse ignored it, and so 
did everyone else with the exception of Martin, 
who for once enjoyed a complete meal of our 
favorite dessert. Conversation during supper 
was strained to the breaking point, and we were 
all glad to be away as soon as possible and get 
out on deck. 

The second dog watch went by without inci- 
dent, as we were rushed about the braces, sweat- 
ing up for the night, trimming yards, and labor- 
ing at the bilge pumps. It was clear, but with 
no moon, and at eight bells we went forward to 
the square under the fo'c'sle head. The starboard 
watch were called aft by the second mate, to some 
task of horsing up this yard or that, and every- 
thing was propitious for the coming battle. 
Blood alone could wipe out the feud between 
Scouse and Joe. 

"And I hope he gets a damn good lickin'," 



72 UNDER SAIL 

confided Martin to me as we went forward, re- 
ferring to Scouse. 

"Too heavy, Mart," was my opinion. 

"But Australia says as how Joe can handle his 
self. That boy ain't no slouch, and he's mad. 
You bet he's mad," insisted Martin. 

That Joe was mad, fighting mad, went with- 
out saying. He had the stinging insults from 
the mate still ringing in his ears, and the vile tac- 
tics of Scouse, culminating in the tar pot trick, 
had steeled Joe to the point of desperation. 
Scouse, on the other hand, faced the question of 
fighting for his right to exist in the fo'c'sle. For 
a man to be ostracized by the crowd forward is 
a living hell, as has been proven on other voy- 
ages. 

Aggravated as the situation was by the hedg- 
ing discipline of the ship, the preparations for the 
battle were as secret as though we were an ille- 
gal boxing club operating in some blue-stocking 
community. Jimmy Marshall decided all the de- 
tails, jumping around as busy as a field louse at 
harvest time. He elected himself referee and 
told off Australia and Brenden to look after 
Scouse, while Martin and myself were detailed 
to take care of Joe. 

Our men stripped to the waist, bare knuckles 



THE FIGHT 73 

and bare feet, with the "ring" bounded by the 
fore pinrail to leeward, the fife rail, the knight 
heads, and the fore side of the fo'c'sle, all dimly- 
lighted by the fo'c'sle lamp, moved to the door- 
way by Jimmy, and shedding a faint yellow 
gleam over the space on deck. 

Aft, the watch under the second mate were 
going through the first half hour of trimming 
yards, and the general shake up of things with 
which the officers usually "woke up" their crowd. 
No time had been lost by Jimmy, for he know 
just what to do, and Joe was facing Scouse with 
blood in his eyes, a very few minutes after eight 
bells. 

"Not much room, but good enough for a fight, 
if it's fight you want," said Jimmy, buzzing 
around the men to see that all was in order. Two 
buckets were filled with water from over side, 
hand swabs were got from the deck chest, and 
our men lined up for work. 

Scouse weighed about two hundred pounds, 
topping Joe by twenty pounds, but for all that 
they were well matched, as Joe had the advan- 
tage of agility and the better chance to dodge the 
hard knocks of the very substantial deck fixtures 
all about. 

Jimmy brought out a big silver watch and an- 



74 UNDER SAIL 

nounced that the rounds would be three minutes, 
"An' no punchin' in a clinch, an' no noise. These 
is the Mark o' Queensberry rules," said Jimmy 
with great emphasis. 

The fo'c'sle lookout of the other watch came 
aft to the break of the fo'c'sle head and stood by 
the mast, ready to warn us of a surprise from 
aft. It was to be a silent fight, a desperate, un- 
compromising battle for the freedom of the 
fo'c'sle slaves, and the general edification of all 
hands, long wearied by the bickering between Joe 
and the red head. 

The men backed off in the gloom. 

"Go to it!" cried Jimmy. 

They clashed with the hard thuds of calloused 
fists. Both men were in the prime of condition. 
Both were crazy to fight. Big Scouse swung at 
Joe, landing a fraction before Joe connected with 
the big fellow's wind. The blow brought blood 
spurting from Joe's nose and cut his lip. ''Play 
for his tvind, Joe! The hread basket, Joe! Bat 
%m in the eye! Kill him!" The side lines, hid 
in the shadow of the fo'c'sle, were with Joe. 

For a minute or two there was a rapid ex- 
change of blows without thought of guard or 
parry. To get in as many and as strong a lot 
of blows as possible was the simple system. 



THE FIGHT 75 

Jimmy cried out "time," but no account of time 
or rounds was contemplated in the scheme of 
things. Fight was the business, and to a finish. 

"Biff!" They slammed against the side of 
the deck house; a splotch of blood, dimly visible 
in the night, smeared the white paint. Once 
again they swung back, when the ship gave a 
sudden roll, as a blow from Joe's right landed 
on Scouse's nose, toppling him backward against 
the fife rail. An iron pin, the one used to belay 
the chain sheets of the lower tops'l, caught Scouse 
behind the ear and, with a grunt, he was "out." 

Fortunately, nothing but rumors of the fight 
got aft. Scouse was well beaten, and came to in 
his bunk, after Australia and Brenden had 
doused him with salt water. Joe was badly bat- 
tered up, and both men carried "shiners." As 
Jimmy Marshall said, "Honors is even, but it 
was a wery wery ragged fight." 

The mate next morning greeted the watch with 
a broad grin, and the story of the mill, told to 
the starboard watch by their lookout Tommy, lost; 
nothing in the telling. As for the port watch, 
we were glad it was over and once again the at- 
mosphere below returned to normal. A few 
nights later Joe and Scouse chummed together, 



76 JJNDER SAIL 

and from that day to the night in Honolulu, 
when Joe deserted and went out on the barken- 
tine Irmgard to Frisco, he and Scouse were in- 
separable. 



CHAPTER V 

NEPTUNE COMES ON BOAED 

WE were then in about five degrees of 
North Latitude, the trades had failed us, 
and the doldrums claimed their share of bracing 
and hauling, giving us little time for any other 
work. Every ripple on the brazen sea called for 
a different angle of the yards, and in dead calm 
we lay with our head yards braced sharp up and 
the after yards square, the courses guyed out 
from the masts by slap lines and bowlines. Dur- 
ing the day a vertical sun beat down on our 
bare deck in unmerciful fashion, lifting the 
scorching pitch from the seams and all but add- 
ling our senses with the heat. The mates be- 
came more and more exacting, every job palled, 
and the stuffy, unpalatable food of the fo'c'sle 
stuck in our throats. The vessel was a chip of 
hell floating on the unforgiving ocean; riveted 
for days, that stretched to weeks, amid the 
patches of rusty sea weed, a thousand feet across, 

77 



78 UNDER SAIL 

that tangled about the rudder post, great sun- 
scorched fragments of the dead Sargasso Sea. 

And all of this time we knew that the South- 
ern branch of the Equatorial Current was send- 
ing us back to the W. N. W. at the rate of several 
miles a day! 

In watch below, choking with the heat, we lay 
tossing sleeplessly in our bunks while the sickly 
smell of the bilges came up from the fore peak 
through the wind sails let down to ventilate the 
hold. Cockroaches throve in added millions, and 
we were treated to our first rations of weevily 
tack. The little white worms seemed to be 
everywhere. The cracker hash was riddled with 
them as Chow selected the rottenest bread for 
this purpose. Most of us developed boils, and 
the dark brown taste, left by the vile food, re- 
sulted in a general loss of appetite. The heat even 
forced the rats from the hold and on a dark night 
we could hear them scampering about under the 
fo'e'sle head. The healthy sea tan of the tem- 
perate zone left our faces, and we became peev- 
ish and morose. 

Some of us tried to forget our misery by read- 
ing the books sent aboard by the Seamen's Friend 
Society, others whiled away the hot watches be- 
low, when sleep was impossible, by making won- 



NEPTUNE COMES ON BOARD 79 

derful models of ships in bottles, almost a lost 
art nowadays, and revived on board the Fuller 
by Frenchy. Most of these works of art found 
resting places behind the bars of waterfront sa- 
loons in Honolulu. 

One blessing that came to us in this hell afloat 
was the fact that the mates winked at the snatch- 
ing of a few hours' sleep during the night watches 
on deck, otherwise there is no telling how some of 
us would have survived. 

Our fo'c'sle scuttle butt soured, and Old Smith 
of the starboard watch emptied it one Sunday 
morning and charred the inside with a bundle of 
rope yarns to which he set fire. He told us how 
water gets bad in the tropics, and then how its 
own impurities destroy themselves. "The bugs 
scoff each other and die," and, went on Smithy, 
"they drops to the bottom of the butt, like white 
skeletons, and the water is as clean and good as 
ever." 

About this time considerable activity went on 
forward among the old sailors in both watches. 
One dog watch, men from both sides of the 
fo'c'sle went aft and interviewed the captain. 

"We are near the line," said Frenchy to me 
shortly afterward. "Don't make any fuss about 



80 UNDER SAIL 

what goes on, and you'll get off easy," he cau- 
tioned. 

There were quite a few of us who had never 
crossed the equator, and the preparations in the 
dog watches augured ill for those who chose to 
resist the just tribute demanded by Father Nep- 
tune of all green sailors who, in those days, ven- 
tured across the magic bounds. 

A fair slant of wind had helped us along for 
a few days, when the Old Man called Jimmy aft 
and imparted important information. 

At eight bells in the afternoon watch, as all 
hands were mustering in the waist, a hoarse hail 
from forward greeted us. 

"Ship Ahoy! Ship Ahoy!" came the deep bass 
summons from a point beneath the bow. 

"Forward, there! Who hails us?" answered 
the captain, who stood out on the poop, replying 
to the voice from forward. 

"Father Neptune hails us. Captain," answered 
Hitchen, returning from the bow. "He asks if 
there are any of his children on board who would 
receive his blessing on their heads." 

"Aye, bring him on board," ordered the skip- 
per, a broad grin lighting his features, and the 
two mates reflected the feeling aft by joining 
in the smiles. 



NEPTUNE COMES ON BOARD 81 

A noise of trudging along the deck followed, 
the King of the Sea, his own whiskers hidden be- 
hind a broad beard of rope yarns, a bright red 
harpoon in his right hand serving as a trident, 
and a large razor, made of hoop iron, stuck in his 
belt, walked aft. He was draped in the folds of 
an old boat sail, and for all of his regal trim- 
mings we recognized the famous Jimmy. A reti- 
nue followed, rigged out in true deep-water style, 
and carrying a tub between them, which was de- 
posited on deck just aft of the mainmast. 

"Captain," said Neptime, "I am told as *ow 
you 'ave green 'ands on board who 'ave to be 
shaved." 

"Yes, Your Majesty, we have some with the 
hayseed still in their whiskers," answered the 
skipper. 

"Bring 'em forth !" thundered the King, unlim- 
bering his razor and passing the trident to the 
safe keeping of his wife, Amphitrite, in the per- 
son of Axel, who towered two feet above the head 
of the King. 

However, what Jimmy lacked in stature he 
made up in efficiency, and in the imperious 
glance of scorn with which he greeted eight of 
us who were lined up for his inspection. 

Old Smith grabbed me by the neck; I was 



82 UNDER SAIL 

seated on the bottom of an upturned bucket at 
the feet of the King. 

"Your name?" demanded His Majesty, and as 
I was about to answer a filthy swab of soapsuds 
and grease was thrust in my mouth and smeared 
over my face and the shaving began, ending by 
a back somersault into the tub of water behind. 

"Next!" called Neptune in true barber shop 
style, and so, in turn, each of the green hands 
went through the ordeal ; the least willing getting 
the most attention. Scouse and Joe were among 
the lubbers, and were accorded special rites to 
the vast amusement of all hands. Australia 
wound up the entertainment by handing Scouse 
and Joe pieces of gunny sack, smeared with black 
paint, with which to wipe their faces. 

"All right now!" called the mate, after the 
skipper had left the deck. "Turn to and clean 
up," and we were back again to the rigid disci- 
pline of the sea, relaxed for a brief hour to let 
King Neptune hold his sway. 

After crossing the line we picked up the first 
whisperings of the S. E. trades, that soon began 
to blow steadily and ushered in another busy 
stage of the voyage. The refreshing wind and 
falling temperature brought renewed vigor to our 
jaded crew. Although we had commenced to feel 



NEPTUNE COMES ON BOARD 83 

the lack of fresh provisions, scurvy did not bother 
us, possibly owing to the regular issue of lime 
juice, but the constant repetition of salt pork 
and salt beef, the weevily hard tack, and the 
abominable slumgullion, a stew made from 
canned mutton, made us crave for something de- 
cent to eat. 

Frenchy often drove us to the verge of dis- 
traction with his stories of the cooks at home in 
Dunkirk, until we finally had to put the ban on 
that sort of discourse. Again, we landed several 
bonitas teeming with energy, and, after the sil- 
ver coin test, all hands fell to with a will, myself 
included. We also hooked a shark and hauled 
him on board by a "handy billy" snatched to the 
fore rigging. 

The regular routine of setting up shrouds and 
stays preparatory to entering the heavy weather 
off the Horn, now began in earnest. We had 
left New York with a full set of new hemp lan- 
yards in our lower rigging. The lanyard knots 
were turned in in a slovenly manner, with a lub- 
berly disregard for appearances, that proved an 
eyesore to Captain Nichols. We cast new knots 
in these, and set up all standing rigging anew; 
a long, interesting job that initiated us into the 
mysteries of "rackings" and the "Spanish wind- 



84 UNDER SAIL 

lass," and the practical workings of the various 
"purchases" and "burtons"; the "luff tackles," 
and the "gun tackles." 

The mate was the leading spirit in these pro- 
ceedings, staying on deck practically all day to 
supervise the work. As we would set up one pair 
of shrouds to port and another to starboard, 
bringing them to a "full due," the mate was al- 
ways there to say when to clap on the racking and 
"come up" on the rigging luffs. 

How the mate stood it often amazed me, for 
he was very lively at night, but toward the end 
of this work the second mate would stand his last 
dog watch for him, giving our first officer a six 
hour spell of sleep every other day. What this 
means on a watch and watch racket, sailors who 
have traveled the long voyage route will know. 

The real sailors came to the fore during this 
time in both watches, and Frenchy, Brenden, and 
Marshall, of our side, with Smith, Axel, and 
Hitchen of the starboard watch, proved their 
rightful claim to the full rating of A. B. Mr. 
Stoddard, who was a bit weak on his marline 
spike seamanship, though a good watch officer, 
made up for things by the way he bawled about 
and hurried and scurried his watch during the 
time the mate was on deck. His men hated him 



NEPTUNE COMES ON BOARD 85 

thoroughlj^ and we were glad that he had very 
little to do with us. 

Aboard a real shipshape and Bristol fashion 
deepwaterman of the old school, if there be any- 
such left today, everything is done according to 
the custom of the sea. From the main truck to 
the keel, from the outermost end of the flying 
jibboom to the last band on the spanker, the 
ancient art of seamanship has decreed the ex- 
act way in which certain things shall be done. 
The deadeyes carry their knots inboard, forward 
to starboard, and aft to port. The lanyard 
lengths are justly proportioned to the length of 
the stay they extend, so the required '^give" will 
be right, and the shroud pairs, stays, and back- 
stays, are passed over the mast heads and rest 
upon the trestle trees, in due and proper form; 
the same in all ships worthy of the name. 

Nations differ in their customs, and likewise in 
their rigs. No Italian ship can sail the sea with 
a straight martingale, and no other ship would 
venture forth with one that was anything but 
true. 

For weeks at a time, after our entry into the 
southern trades, it was hardly necessary to touch 
a brace except for the sweating up each night 
in the last dog watch, when a swig or two on the 



86 UNDER SAIL 

ropes would bring back any slack that had 
worked around the pins. The job of setting up 
standing rigging completed, we turned our at- 
tention to the running gear. We rove off new 
whips on all the braces, using an eye splice that 
was a favorite with the mate, being tucked after 
the manner of a sailmaker's splice, that is, the 
continuity of the strands of the rope was pre- 
served, the appearance of the whips being very 
trim. 

The tops'l downhauls were rove off with new 
rope, and the gear of all the lower stays'ls, lower 
tops'ls and courses was overhauled and replaced 
where needed. 

As we began to lift the Southern Cross and 
the trades left us, we again shifted sail, an all 
day job that this time fell on a Sunday, and when 
completed found us under our best suit of can- 
vas ready for that storm corner of the voyage, 
Cape Horn. We overhauled the rudder tackles, 
reeving new purchases "with the sun," as indeed 
all purchases are rove. Oil bags were made, 
shaped like beech nuts, bound with ratline stuff, 
and fitted with a stout becket. By filling these 
with heavy non-freezing animal or vegetable oil 
and puncturing them with a sail needle, they af- 



NEPTUNE COMES ON BOARD 87 

forded the best means for spreading oil on the 
waters in time of storm. 

One sail in particular that we bent at this 
time made a great impression on me; this was 
a heavy storm spencer made of dark hemp can- 
vas, soft and pliable even when wet, unlike the 
stiff white American cotton stuff that rips out 
your finger nails when fighting the bellying folds, 
tough as sheet iron, as it slams out from a buck- 
ing yard. The main spencer was evidently an 
acquisition from some Asiatic or European voy- 
age. It bent to an iron jackstay, and furled in to 
the mast with a set of brails, being cut "leg-o'- 
mutton," the sheet hauling aft to big eyebolts on 
either side of the waist. 

Double lashings were passed on all of the life- 
boat gripes. Rolling and jumper tackles were 
got ready for the lower and tops'l yards, to re- 
lieve the stress on yards and parrals, and straps 
and whips were prepared, and laid aside, for use 
as preventer braces should the necessity arise. In 
these preparations on the Fuller we had a fore- 
sight of what to expect when off the dreaded 
Cape; at the same time we were certain that no 
vessel was ever better or more intelligently 
groomed for heavy weather. 

These preparations carried us well down to the 



88 UNDER SAIL 

latitude of the River Plate ; here we were warned 
by the wise ones to expect some weather, which 
was not long in coming. 

Our watch had just gone below at midnight, 
when a sou'wester zipped in from the distant 
land, a live whole gale, sweetened with the breath 
of the Patagonian prairies that stretched for 
leagues beneath its origin. The starboard watch 
started to shorten sail, but by four bells in the 
midwatch things were getting so far ahead of 
them that all hands were called, and we tumbled 
out in the midst of a Bedlam of thrashing gear 
and general confusion. 

Most of the port watch were ordered aloft to 
take in the fore upper tops'l, thrashing in its gear, 
while the ship plunged ahead under lower tops'ls,. 
reefed fore course and stays'ls. The starboard 
watch were completing the job of furling the 
main tops'l, and with two of our men to help, 
were about to tackle the mains'l. 

I was on the fore upper tops'l yard, with 
Frenchy at the lee yardarm, and Scouse in be- 
tween me and the mast. We were just passing 
the last of the sea gaskets, when the lower tops'l 
yard seemed to lift up in the air with a sudden 
jump for we were standing on it, instead of on 
the footropes of the upper tops'l. A great smash- 



NEPTUNE COMES ON BOARD 89 

ing below us, and the loud impact of something 
big and hard banging against the yard under our 
feet, sent us clambering to the upper stick for 
our lives. 

''Lee fore slieefs adiiftr someone shouted. 
There was a rush in to the mast to escape the 
heavy spectacle iron, and the cluster of flying 
clew garnet blocks, and the next thing we knew 
we were ordered to lay out on the fore yard and 
secure the sail. 

''Lay down and secure fores'l!" came the order 
from the mate, who stood on the fo'c'sle head, 
back to the gale, bellowing up his instructions. 

Six of us slid down to the top and out on the 
jumping foreyard. The buntlines and leechlines 
were finally hauled home, and we got our gas- 
kets about the flying iron. A weird morning light 
was then breaking in the east and as our watch 
below was gone, all hands remained on deck for 
morning coffee after we hove her to under lower 
tops'ls, fore and main storm stays'ls, and try- 
s'l. 

The Pampero gave us a taste of real weather, 
and came as an actual relief after the long mo- 
notonous passage through the trades and dol- 
drums. 



CHAPTER VI 

LIFE IN THE FO'c'SLE 

WITH livelier weather of the Southern lati- 
tudes we were often exercised in tacking 
and wearing ship, and soon became a very well 
drilled company, sending the big three-sticker 
about in record time. The Fuller was lively in 
stays and with our small crew required the smart- 
est kind of work in handling. 

With all hands, including the ''idlers," that is, 
the carpenter, cook and cabin steward, we mus- 
tered twenty men forward, hardly a man-o'- 
war complement, but enough, when driven and 
directed by superior seamanship, to send the long 
braces clicking through the sheaves of the patent 
blocks with a merry chatter. 

"Hands about ship !" meant all hands, and the 
cooh at the fore sheet, a time honored station 
filled by the Celestial with all the importance 
in the world. It was all the work that Chow ever 
did on deck and the heathenish glee with which 
he would "let go" at the proper time, added a cer- 

90 



LIFE IN THE FO'C'SLE 91 

tain zest to our movements, particularly as we 
always hoped to have a sea come over and douse 
him, which often happened. 

At the order, "Ready! Heady!" the gear of 
the main and cro'jik was thrown down from the 
pins, clear for running. The command "Ease 
down the helm!" and the order "Spanker boom 
amidships!" would quickly follow, the vessel run- 
ning rapidly into the eye of the wind with every- 
thing shaking, and then flat aback. 

"Rise tacks and sheets!" and the hands at the 
clew garnets would sway up on the courses, lift- 
ing them clear of the bulwarks. Then all hands 
would jump like monkeys to the main and cro'jik 
braces, at the order, "Weather main, lee cro'jik 
braces!" the second mate, and Chips, standing 
by to cast off on the other sides. By then, the 
wind being a point on the weather bow, would 
come the hearty warning, "Haul taut!" and 
"Now, boys, mainsail haul!" and the after yards, 
aback, with the wind on their weather leeches, 
would spin about, the gear running through the 
blocks like snakes afire, and the men on deck 
pawing it in at the pins with feverish haste, be- 
laying as the yards slammed back against the 
lee swifters on the other tack. 

By that time the ship would be practically 



92 UNDER SAIL 

about, with head yards and head sails aiding in 
the evolution. As soon as the wind was on the 
bow, all hands would spring to the lee fore braces. 
"Haul taut — let go and haul!" thundered the 
order from aft. Chow would let out a wild yell 
as he unhitched the fore sheet, and around would 
go the head yards. Then with jib sheets shifted 
over, and the spanker eased off, as the tacks were 
boarded, and the sheets hauled aft, we would 
pause to get our breath amid the tangle of gear 
on deck. 

"Steady out the bowlines — go below, watch be- 
low!" and as the watch below would leave the 
deck, the order "Lay up the gear clear for run- 
ning," was the signal for the crowd on deck to 
get busy while the good ship raced away on the 
new tack with the wind six points on the bow, 
a bone in her teeth, and a half point of leeway 
showing in the wake. 

"I hope she holds this tack for a month," was 
a wish often expressed after one of these frantic 
evolutions; but such hopes were vain with the 
variable nature of the strong winds between the 
Plate and Staten Land, that often sent us about 
a half dozen times a day, insuring us plenty of 
healthful exercise and a minimum amount of 
sleep. 



LIFE IN THE FO'C'SLE 93 

On a wind was the Fuller's best point of sail- 
ing, so far as handling was concerned, and she 
was as easy with the helm as a catboat. 

"Keep the weather cloth of the mizzen skys'l 
shaking," was the order for "full and by," and, 
under all plain sail, a spoke of the wheel would 
hold her for hours, with a quarter turn of weather 
helm. 

While our port watch crowd had at first 
thought themselves the losers in the choice of offi- 
cers, we soon realized that we were being favored 
in many ways, mainly because of the superior 
ability of the mate. He cursed unmercifully and 
made no bones about cuffing some of the crew in 
a playful sort of fashion, accompanied with some 
ribald jest that was meant to carry off the sting 
of a heavy blow, yet he managed to give us the 
advantage in most operations requiring all hands. 
He never hesitated to rouse out the starboard 
watch an hour ahead of time when a sudden short- 
ening of sail demanded all hands. On these oc- 
casions we would work like fury and get below 
with the loss of a half hour's less sleep than the 
other watch. 

Ill feeling among the men of the second mate's 
watch became more and more apparent as these 
tactics continued, and the talk in the fo'c'sle had 



94 UNDER SAIL 

it that the second mate was afraid to stand up 
for his rights. He was accordingly blamed for 
every trouble forward, so far as his own watch 
was concerned. Things culminated in the wake 
of a squall that struck us soon after passing the 
River Plate. The tops'l yards having been low- 
ered to the caps, we were called out near the end 
of the afternoon watch to man tops'l halyards. 

Tony, of the starboard watch, was "before- 
hand" with Axel and the second mate, on the 
main tops'l halyards. The rest of the ship's com- 
pany tailed along the deck from the lead block 
bending their "beef" on the rope to the refrain 
of "Ranzo, boys, Ranzo." The deck was slippery 
with the wet, and a high sea, in which the Fuller 
wallowed without sail enough to steady her, made 
footing precarious. 

At the order "Belay!" given by the mate, and 
the sharp "Come up behind" of the second offi- 
cer, Tony failed to hold on to the rope, and the 
consequence was a slight loss as the man next 
the lead block hitched the halyard over the pin. 

"You lazy dago ! Why did you 

let go that rope?" shouted Mr. Stoddard, at the 
same time making a lunge for Tony and smash- 
ing him on the side of the face with his fist. The 
Dago blocked as best he could, and the second 



LIFE IN THE FO'C'SLE 95 

mate drove home a second blow on the Dago's 
nose. Tony clinched, the blood spurted right and 
left as they went to the deck, rolling over and 
over, first one on top and then the other. 

"What's this?" shouted the mate. "You dirty 

bum, you!" he exploded, jumping into 

the scramble, while all hands lined up in a threat- 
ening attitude, determined to see some sort of 
fair play. 

The mate grabbed Tony by the shirt, as he was 
on top, and yanked hurt over. The fact that the 
Dago had Mr. Stoddard down seemed to rile 
the mate beyond all reason. He ripped off the 
shirt of the Dago, and as he threw him across the 
deck a knife flashed and the mate kicked it into 
the scuppers, at the same time digging his heavy 
sea boots into the side of the Italian. The second 
mate staggered to his feet, a jagged streak of 
blood on his face where Tony had landed, and his 
jacket covered with gore. 

This scene, common enough perhaps in the 
annals of the sea, made a deep impression on 
us. His watchmates carried the Italian forward, 
and Mr. Stoddard went to his room under the 
starboard side of the poop. Bad as the feeling 
had been toward our officers, up to this time it had 
mingled with it a certain element of respect. Ar- 



96 UNDER SAIL 

tistic and fluent profanity never hurt anybody, 
and was almost always justified by some bung- 
ling piece of work on the part of the lubbers who 
"gummed up" their action whenever the least 
chance was afforded them. But in the attack of 
the second mate on Tony there was something 
that looked like deliberate planning, and in the 
mixup a number of us saw the mate jerk the knife 
from the Dago's belt. 

As Mr. Zerk went aft he picked up the knife 
from the scuppers. "Irons for you!" he hissed 
at the Dago as they took him to the fo'c'sle. 

But we heard nothing more of it. The captain 
had come out on deck in the height of the excite- 
ment, following the fight, and called the mate 
to his side; he was wise in his day, and knew a 
thing or two about the tactics of his officers. 

Soon we were tailing again to the halyard, 
tautening out the leeches of the tops'l, an embit- 
tered crowd who but a few moments before were 
singing at the ropes. Peter, in the meantime, was 
swabbing up the bloody deck. 

One who has never been there can hardly real- 
ize the absolute subjugation under which a crew 
may be placed by their officers, especially if they 
are on a deep-sea voyage under sail. None of 
us is perfect, and the humble sailor man as well 



LIFE IN THE FO'C'SLE 97 

as the rest of the human race is prone to take 
things as easy as the law of the craft on which 
he sails will allow. This fact, coupled with the 
hard circumstances under which a small crew is 
compelled to work a very large ship, may, in a 
measure, condone the tactics which have for their 
object the putting the "fear of God" into a crew. 

Young officers at times are inclined to be a bit 
"easy" with men, thinking it will result in more 
willingness. The more seasoned members of the 
cloth, men who have sailed as merchant officers 
for many years, realize that the maintenance of 
discipline aboard ship is only possible under a rule 
of autocratic severity, demanding instant obe- 
dience to orders and quick punishment for the 
first departure from the iron bonds. This is as 
necessary as life itself. The least hesitation, the 
slightest possibility of argument, when ordering 
men to places of danger or extreme difficulty, 
would soon result in disaster. 

At sea we have the sharp distinction of caste — 
the wonderful potency of Mister So and So. He 
is an officer, if not always a gentleman. To for- 
get the ''sir'' when addressing one of our mates 
would have been a dangerous thing to do. In fact 
only one man ever did it, but he was a Kanaka 
and signs on later in the story. 



98 UNDER SAIL 

In many ships, captain and mates never fail 
to use their "handles" in addressing each other, 
and this was so on the Fuller, in fact there was 
as little familiarity aft, in the personal relations 
of our officers, as one might expect to find be- 
tween the representatives of two armies meeting 
to arrange a truce. And the wonderful part of it 
was that they left the ship at the end of the voy- 
age as coldly distant as the day they stepped 
aboard; that is all but the second mate, which is 
again running me ahead of the lawful progress 
of this yarn. 

However, to get back to the deck and to the 
lives of our particular little sea community, plow- 
ing their painful way over the cruel surface of the 
many wrinkled ocean, v/e resented the under- 
handed flavor of the affair between the mates and 
Tony. With all the excuses for hazing granted 
and allowed for, there is nothing to be said in 
favor of lying about a fight. The imputation of 
the knife, held as evidence by the mate, and the 
whole character of the mixup left a bad taste in 
our mouths for many weeks. 

From that time on we entered upon a stage of 
the voyage notable for its hardship. The officers 
were drivers from the time we dropped the Nave- 
sink Highlands, but for a long time after the in- 



LIFE IN THE FO'C'SLE 99 

cident off the River Plate, nothing but harsh 
words found any place in their vocabulary. 
Weather conditions became more unsettled and 
severe and one blow followed close on the heels 
of another. We were in oilskins for weeks at a 
time, soaked to the skin through the worn out 
"slickers." Most of us developed salt water boils 
and one formed on my left wi'ist, through the 
constant chafing, and has left a scar to this day, 
as I had the habit of stopping the sleeves of my 
coat with a few turns of marline to keep the 
water out. It was impossible to dry things in the 
brief four hours below, and the "slop chest" was 
soon depleted of its stock of new oil clothing. It 
would be hard to picture a more depressing pe- 
riod than that through which we passed just be- 
fore entering the real weather off Cape Horn. 

In one of our brief periods below some of us 
were patching the tears in our oilskin coats and 
pants, resulting from a tussle with the fore upper 
tops'l, the downhauls having carried away, and 
left the sail a bellying fighting mess of canvas 
that four of us were ordered to subdue. Sewing 
oiled cloth is a poor job, and a loosened finger 
nail on my right thumb, added nothing to the 
cheerfulness of the sewing party. 

*'I'll bet few lads would go to sea if they could 



100 UNDER SAIL 

look in here for a half hour," I remarked, follow- 
ing a turn of thought that revolved more or less 
about my own folly. 

"An' I don't think you would stay in 'ere or 
out on deck or anywhere else in this leaky old 
bucket if you knowed what is afore us," chipped 
in Jimmy. "You 'aven't never gone round the 
Horn yet, so God 'elp you, is wot I says," 

"Yes, Gott help all of us," said Scouse with a 
heartfelt grunt from the sea chest at the forward 
end of the fo'c'sle where he and Joe were playing 
checkers on a new "heavy weather" board just 
made by the resourceful Joseph, This board was 
covered with a piece of canvas, the squares being 
marked off with pencil. The checkers (and here 
is where Joe prided himself) were made by saw- 
ing pieces from an old broom handle, and Joe had 
driven a sharp brad through each one of them 
so they would cling to the canvas on the checker 
board. 

On deck chanties had ceased to enliven us, and 
we went through the hard watches in a dogged 
spirit of endurance. We felt like martyrs, a state 
of mind not altogether without its compensations. 
In the watch below, in a steaming atmosphere of 
gloom, lighted by a single oil lamp set into a hole 
in the partition bulkhead between the two sides 



LIFE IN THE FO'C'SLE 101 

of the fo'c'sle, we slept as much as possible, which 
was not half enough, ate our rude meals, and had 
our dreams of happier days to come. Each man 
respected the rights of his neighbors and each 
bunk was a sort of damp narrow castle. Here in 
the smelly air, in the dim light, cold, tired, and 
often hungry, we lived, or rather, existed. 



CHAPTER VII 

CAPE HORN 

ON a clear Monday morning, the seventh of 
February, 1898, to be exact, the captain, 
after working up his A. M. sight, came on deck 
and announced a good observation. It was the 
first time the sun had been visible in some days, 
and by working a Sumner he found we were on 
a line cutting close past Cape St. John, on Staten 
Land, having sailed the ship down between the 
Falkland Islands and Cape Virgins by dead 
reckoning. We were coiling down the gear after 
the morning washdown, and I was busy at the 
monkey rail when he came on deck with his re- 
sults, and imparted the above information to the 
mate in my hearing. 

"Better send a hand to the main skys'l yard, 
Mr. Zerk," said the captain, in conclusion. 

I was handy, and at a nod from the mate 
sprang up the Jacob's ladder and onto the rat- 
lines, going up like a monkey, out over the fut- 
tock shrouds, up the topmast rigging, narrowing 

102 



CAPE HORN 103 

to the topmast crosstrees, in through the horns of 
the crosstrees, and on farther up the t'gallant and 
royal rigging, on the slight rope ladders abaft 
the mast. Coming to the skysail mast, hardly 
larger round than the stick of a fair catboat, I 
shinned up with the help of the halyards, and 
swung myself astride of the yard, my arm about 
the aerie pinnacle of the main truck. From my 
vantage point the sea was truly an inspiring 
sight; clear as crystal, the limpid air stretched 
free to the distant horizon without a mist or 
cloud to mar the panorama of vast blue ocean. 
I felt as though I had suddenly been elevated to 
a heaven far above the strife and trouble of the 
decks below. 

For the moment I forgot the object of my 
climb in the contemplation of the sparkling scene 
stretching as far as eye could reach. I glanced 
down to the narrow deck far beneath, white in 
the sun, the black top of the bulwarks outlining 
the plan of the ship against the deep blue waters ; 
my eye followed the easy curves of the squared 
canvas on the main, the great breadth of the 
yards extending to port and starboard, and 
I wondered that so small a ship could support 
such an avalanche of sail as bowled along under 
my feet. Aft, a foamy wake stretched for a mile 



104 UNDER SAIL 

or two, for we were sailing at a fairish speed with 
the wind from the north, a point on the port 
quarter. 

I saw the men flaking down the fore tops'l hal- 
yards, clear for running, on the top of the for- 
ward house, and I saw the mate watching me 
from the weather fore pinrail, his head thrown 
back as he gazed aloft ; something told me to get 
busy, and I looked far ahead to the south. 

A faint blue streak on the horizon held my 
eyes. Accustomed to the sight of land from out 
at sea, through my voyages in the schoolship; 
still I hesitated to name it land. We were sixty- 
two days out, and land looked strange. Again 
I brought my sight to bear upon the distant sky- 
line ahead; there was no mistaking the dim out- 
line of land rising from the sea at a point imme- 
diately to the south of us and reaching westward. 

''Land hof I hailed the deck. 

"Where away?" came the voice of Captain 
Nichols. 

"A point on the lee bow, sir!" 

"All right! Lay down!" shouted the mate, evi- 
dently not intending that I should further enjoy 
my lofty perch on the skysail yard. 

We raised the land rapidly, the breeze increas- 
ing slightly as the day advanced. At noon 



CAPE HORN 105 

Staten Land was visible from the deck, and by- 
eight bells in the afternoon watch we were sailing 
past the bold shores, some ten miles distant, and 
drawing the land well abeam. Running south 
for a good offing, and taking in our light sails 
with the coming of darkness, we hauled our wind 
to the starboard quarter at the end of the last dog 
watch and headed bravely for old "Cape Stiff." 

Captain Nichols might have ventured through 
the Strait of Le Maire, with the weather we were 
having, though at the best it is taking chances 
to keep the land too close aboard when in the 
troubled latitudes of Terra Del Fuego. Count- 
less ships, with the fine Duchesse de Berry among 
the last of them, have ground their ribs against 
the pitiless rocks that gird those coasts. How- 
ever, we were enjoying the rarest of Cape Horn 
weather — sunshine, fair wind, and a moderate 
sea. 

For the first time in many weary days we 
livened things up with a chantey as we swigged 
away on the braces and tautened every stitch of 
canvas with well stretched sheets and halyards. 

Jimmy Marshall had just started "Whiskey 
for my Johnnie," and the captain came forward 
on the break of the poop and joined in the chorus 
in a funny, squeaky voice — but none of us dared 



106 UNDER SAIL 

laugh at him. He was so delighted with the 
progress we were making and the chance that 
we might slip by the "corner" in record time, that 
nothing was too good for us. The mate came 
down from his high horse and with Mr. Stoddard 
and Chips, who had just finished their supper and 
were stepping out on deck, to join them, the full 
after guard took up the refrain — and the words 
rose in a great volume of deep sea song. 

"Oh, whiskey — my Johnnie; 
Yes, whiskey made me sell my coat 
Whiskey, my Johnnie. 
Oh, whiskey's what keeps me afloat. 
Oh whiskey for my Johnnie." 

When we pumped her out that night at the 
main pump, for the ship was ahnost on an even 
keel, we noted the skipper had begun to stump 
the quarter deck in a very excited way, constantly 
ducking up and down the companion, and scan- 
ning the horizon with an anxious eye. Cape 
pigeons were circling close to the ship with an 
endless chatter, and far above us swung a huge, 
dun-colored fulmar gull, its white belly clean 
against the grey sky. 

"There is something doing with the glass," re- 
marked Frenchy, eyeing the skipper* "We'll 



CAPE HORN 107 

have some weather to look out for before long," 
and all of us watched the gull with fascinated 
eyes. Jimmy and Brenden agreed with Frenchy 
that we w^ere in for heavy weather. 

But in spite of these dire predictions, and in 
spite of a "red dawn," the day broke and con- 
tinued fair, and we were again regaled with a 
glimpse of land, jagged somber peaks, jutting 
into the sky to the north like the cruel teeth of a 
ragged saw, grey blue above the far horizon. 

I was aft flaking down the mizzen tops'l hal- 
yards on the morning following the landfall when 
Captain Nichols stumped past me from the break 
of the poop to the companion. He had been up 
all night, and the continuation of fine weather 
evidently pleased and surprised him. He had a 
pair of binoculars in his hand, and, in passing, 
he stopped and offered the glasses to me, point- 
ing to the southernmost promontory, a cold blue 
knob rising from the sea. 

"That's Cape Horn over there, Felix. Take a 
good look at it. You may never see it again, if 
you were born lucky." 

Almost staggered by this sudden good fortune, 
I brought the captain's glasses in focus on the 
dreaded cape, my whole being thrilled with the 
pleasure of looking through those excellent binoc- 



108 



UNDER SAIL 




1— 1—— tiit— liriii Mnuppi in»rniii«><i 



CAPE HORN 109 

ulars at that distant point of rock, the outpost of 
the New World, jutting far into the southern 
ocean. I doubt if the gallant old Dutchman, 
Schouten, who first "doubled" it, experienced 
half the exhilaration that I did on first beholding 
that storied headland. At four bells in the morn- 
ing watch I went to the wheel, and while the 
watch swabbed down the decks after the morn- 
ing washdown, I was privileged to look at the 
Cape out of the corner of my eye, between times 
keeping the "lubber's line" of the compass bowl 
on sou'west by sou', for the skipper had shaped 
a course a point or so further off shore, as the 
currents had evidently set us in toward the land 
during the night and he wished to keep his safe 
offing. 

The wind in the meantime had veered round 
to west-nor'-west, blowing directly off the land 
and with increasing force. The light sails were 
taken in again, and by eight bells we were under 
t'gans'ls, upper and lower tops'ls, reefed fores'l, 
reefed mains'l, spanker, jib and topmast stays'ls. 

As I left the wheel and went forward, I deter- 
mined to attempt a pencil sketch of Cape Horn, 
the weather being too dull for a photograph, even 
if the land were not too distant. The result, after 
some trials, and the loss of my breakfast, which 



110 UNDER SAIL 

was nothing, resulted in a fair representation of 
what we saw of the Cape, and I turned into my 
bunk with a feehng of satisfaction. After all, it 
was worth a good deal to have actually set eyes 
upon the Horn. 

When we turned out at one bell, for dinner, 
we found the wind had veered farther to the west, 
we were sailing by the wind with the starboard 
tacks aboard, the cold spray from a rising sea, 
breaking over the fo'c'sle head, and spattering 
against the fo'c'sle door. 

Jimmy sat up and rubbed his eyes as the watch 
was called and swore gently under his breath. 
Brenden went out on deck to take a look at the 
weather. "Hell, we got it now. I have seen 
this before. D'you feel the ice?" he asked. 

Indeed we all felt the drop in temperature, 
and the short snappy jerk of the ship, as she met 
the new direction of the sea, was anything but 
pleasant. 

Coffee was served out to us that noon instead 
of lime juice, and the warmth was welcome; it 
helped wash down the last cooked meal that Chow 
was able to prepare for ten days. 

Mustering on deck at eight bells, we found we 
were driving south under a leaden sky. Cape 
Horn, still dimly visible, was soon shut off, van- 



CAPE HORN 111 

ishing in a cloud cap over the land astern. We 
were sailing due south, the wind having headed 
us, and at four bells, the wind rapidly increasing 
in violence, the starboard watch turned out to 
help in shortening down. We at once took in 
the t'gans'ls, mains'l, and jib, and these were 
followed in quick succession by other canvas until 
at eight bells we had the Fuller stripped to her 
lower tops'ls, close reefed main upper tops'l, and 
storm stays'ls. The sea rose to mammoth pro- 
portions, fetching as it did from the very edge 
of the Antarctic ice barrier. 

The canvas aloft soon became stiff with ice and 
all gear on the ship was coated with frozen rain, 
as we were swept by a succession of rain and hail 
storms. At nightfall we were hove to, on the 
starboard tack under goose winged main lower 
tops'l, reefed main trys'l, and storm stays'l. The 
oil tank forward was dripping its contents on the 
sea, and two oil bags were slung from the fore 
and main weather channels. 

The storm, for the wind had now increased to 
fully sixty miles an hour, held steady from the 
west until midnight. Then it suddenly went to 
nor'west, and in the squalls, when the wind rose 
to hurricane force, the Fuller lay over on her 
beam ends. A vicious cross sea added its danger 



112 UNDER SAIL 

to the situation. All hands were then on deck, 
remaining aft near the mizzen rigging. The 
fo'c'sle, galley, and forward cabin were awash. 
Four men braced themselves at the spokes of the 
wheel, under the eye of the second mate, and re- 
lieving tackles were hooked to ease the "kick" of 
the tiller. Preventer braces and rolling tackles, 
got up earlier in the day, were hove taut to steady 
the heavy spars aloft. All loose gear was stream- 
ing to leeward, washing in the sea, through the 
open scuppers and freeing ports. A fierce boil- 
ing of white phosphorescent wave caps lit the 
sea as it broke over the ship, intensifying the 
black pandemonium overhead. The sleet-laden 
spume shot over the prostrate vessel in a contin- 
uous roar, drowning all attempts at shouting of 
orders. 

It was during the wild but fascinating hours 
of this night that I realized the high quality of 
seamanship that had prepared us for an ordeal 
such as we were going through. The consum- 
mate skill with which the great wooden craft was 
being handled came home to me with a force that 
could not be denied. How easily a bungling lub- 
ber might have omitted some precaution, or car- 
ried sail improperly, or have done, or not done, 



CAPE HORN 113 

the thousand things that would have spelled dis- 
aster ! 

The captain and mate stood at the lee of the 
mizzen mast, each with a turn of the tops'l sheets 
about him, and hitched over the monkey rail. 
The rest of us, crouching at the lee of the cabin 
trunk, knee deep in the water when she went 
over in the heavier squalls, held our places won- 
dering what turn things would take next. Look- 
ing through one of the after cabin ports, on my 
way to the wheel, I saw Chow and Komoto, the 
cabin boy, packing a box by the light of the small 
lamp swinging in its gimbals. They were evi- 
dently getting ready to leave — where to — ^them- 
selves and their gods alone knew. 

All things have an end, and the Stygian black- 
ness of the night gave way to gray streaks of 
dawn that broke upon us, revealing a scene of 
utmost desolation. A note of order was given 
to the wild confusion of the gale-wracked fabric, 
when Chips, his lanky figure skimming along the 
life line, and his sounding rod sheltered under his 
long oil coat, ventured to the main fife rail to 
sound the well. As for the crew, we were soaked 
with salt water and frozen to the marrow. The 
main lower tops'l had blown from the bolt ropes 
during the night ; we never missed it until mom- 



114 UNDEK SAIL 

ing. Twenty feet of the lee bulwark — the port 
side — was gone, and a flapping rag of canvas at 
the main hatch told us that the tarpaulin was 
torn. Looking forward through the whistle of 
wind and spume that cut across the sharply tilted 
rigging, the scene was one of terrific strife, as 
though some demon ruler of the sea had massed 
his forces, and was making a desperate drive for 
the destruction of the wooden handiwork of man 
upon which he dared to venture over those for- 
bidden wastes. 




CHAPTER VIII 

BOUNDING THE HORN 

NO matter how miserable one may be, action 
of some kind always comes as a relief. Our 
hard lot on the Fuller was positively made more 
bearable by the added hardships of the storm, 
and when the night was past we were glad to 
force our chilled limbs and hungry bellies to some 
sort of effort. Anything was better than to hang 
to the mizzen rigging and slowly freeze to death. 
The torn hatch tarpaulin was a serious matter. 
The merchant service holds no higher duty, where 
passengers are not carried, than the duty toward 
cargo. This is often forgotten by men who lack 
the true traditions of the sea. But our officers 
were well alive to the importance, not only of 
bringing our ship around the Horn, but of bring- 
ing her cargo through in good condition. 

The mate, followed by Axel, Brenden, 
Frenchy, and Mike, a husky, well-set-up sailor 
of the starboard watch, went into the waist and 
worked their way along the deck at great peril, 

115 



116 UNDER SAIL 

After much trouble they managed to wedge down 
the flapping canvas, which was under a constant 
deluge of blue water, whole seas coming aboard 
in quick succession. 

By noon the weather abated somewhat, and 
we got the ship under fore and mizzen lower 
tops'ls, and close reefed main upper tops'l. Be- 
fore nightfall we had sent down what remained 
of the main lower tops'l, and bent a new sail. 
That afternoon we experienced an adventure 
fraught with much excitement to us of the port 
watch. The jib having worked loose from the 
gaskets, by constant dipping into the sea, as the 
ragged crests of blue water buried the bowsprit 
and jibboom, six of us were ordered out to secure 
the sail by passing a three-inch manila line 
around the sail and boom. 

Brenden, Scouse, Frenchy and I were on the 
weather side, and Joe and Martin went out on 
the boom to leeward. The job was ahnost fin- 
ished, two seas had already drenched us, and we 
were chilled with the dip in the cold water, when 
the ship rose to a heavy roller, her bow lifted high 
into the eye of the wind, and then plunged down 
into the deep trough between two seas. The mo- 
mentum was so great that she failed to rise 
quickly enough, and her jibboom stabbed right 



ROUNDING THE HORN 117 

into the heart of the onrushing wall of cold blue 
water, regardless of the half dozen luckless 
wretches clinging to the furled canvas with all 
their might. The great sea went on over us, 
thundering down on the fo'c'sle head, and rush- 
ing aft along the deck in a noisy white cataract of 
foam. When she shook free we were left cling- 
ing to the jibboom like drowned rats, that is, all 
of us but Joe. 

Aft on the poop, the mate heard our cries, and, 
springing to the lee rail, he yanked a bight of 
line from, a pin and hove it overboard, catching 
Joe just in time as he rose close along side. 
When she heeled to leeward, ready hands hauled 
the half-drowned Joe on board. Captain Nichols 
had come up on the first cry, and taking Joe into 
the cabin, he poured out a liberal hooker of whis- 
key from the medicine chest. The funny part of 
the whole thing was that Joe was more thankful 
for the drink than for his escape from certain 
death, for we never could have lowered a boat in 
that sea. 

We got a watch below that night, and the cook 
managed to heat some coffee, but cold salt beef 
and hard tack were all that the kids contained 
when we went below for supper. Wrapped in 
our damp clothes we managed to peg in a few 



118 UNDER SAIL 

hours of necessary sleep. Life, for a week after- 
ward, was not worth living, unless one held some 
latent strain of the old berserker flowing through 
his veins. It was a fight, and the elements 
charged us and flanked us in midnight fury, in- 
creasingly cold as we edged farther to the south 
in our attempt to round the meridian of Cape 
Horn. 

In latitude 56° 29' S. and longitude 68° 42' W. 
from Greenwich, about sixty sea miles S. W. by 
W. from Cape Horn, lies the island of Diego 
Ramirez, a weather-worn rock jutting from the 
black waters of the sub-antarctic. Ten days 
after fetching away from the Cape, we beat south 
and sighted this grim sentinel, the outpost of the 
tempest and the gale — ten days of such seagoing 
as seldom falls to the men who nowadays go down 
to the sea in steamers. 

Under conditions of the kind we experienced, 
every man was put to the test, and his worth as 
a member of the crew clearly established. For- 
tunately for us, and for the races representative 
in our small company — of which we boasted 
quite a few — no strain of yellow fear developed 
during the days and nights when the work aloft 
called for the performance of duty dangerous in 
the extreme. Not one of us but had been ship- 



ROUNDING THE HORN 119 

mates with men lost overboard, or maimed for 
life in accidents to sail or spars. Never was there 
a moment's hesitation to lay aloft, or out on a 
swaying bucking yard in the black cover of night, 
to grapple with canvas hard and unruly. No 
work was too trying, and no hours of labor too 
long. We thought nothing of the eternal injus- 
tice of a fate that sent us out to sea to fight for 
our very lives on a ship far too big for so small 
a crew to handle safely, if indeed any crew of 
mere men could ever safely handle so large a 
ship. 

Never was there a suspicion of holding back, 
and through it all, the discipline of the dis- 
gruntled warmer latitudes was dropped and 
orders were quickly obeyed as a matter of course ; 
yes, as a matter of self-preservation. The dis- 
gusting profanity of warmer climes was laid in 
the discard for a while, and we were men doing 
men's work. 

Wet and hunger were the rule; to be chilled 
with the cold was normal, and our salvation was 
the constant struggle with the working of the 
ship. Accidents occurred, and old Jimmy lay in 
his bunk with his right arm in a bandage from a 
dislocation due to a fall on the slippery deck. 
This was roughly set by the captain with the 



120 UNDER SAIL 

help of the mate and the carpenter. The galley 
fire had hardly been lighted an hour at a time as 
the seas flooded everything forward. Cold salt 
junk — from the harness casks to the kids — com- 
prised the mainstay of our ration, not to mention 
the daily whack of mouldy, weevily hard tack. 
Had it not been for an occasional steaming hot 
can of slops called tea and coffee, we should have 
surely perished. 

Our oilskins were in shreds, boots leaked, and 
every stitch of clothing in the ship was damp, 
except when dried by the heat of our bodies. 
Had I been told of this before starting out— well, 
I suppose I would not have believed it — and, 
when I say that during it all we had a fairly good 
time and managed to crack jokes and act like a 
lot of irresponsible asses, it goes to prove that 
man was born to be kicked; be he on a sailing 
ship around the Horn, on the hard edge of the 
Arctic littoral, or in the bloody trenches; fate 
is always there to step in and deliver the neces- 
sary bumping. 

When south of Diego Ramirez, we passed the 
American ship Shenandoah, Captain "Shotgun" 
Murphy, bound from 'Frisco to Liverpool, with 
a cargo of grain. She was racing two English 
four-masted barks, and we were told that she 



ROUNDING THE HORN 121 

dropped her hook in the Mersey a month ahead 
of them. 

When sighting the Shenandoah we were close 
to the wind on the starboard tack, standing 
about due west; the Shenandoah was running 
free, with the wind two points abaft her port 
beam, carrying everything to t'gans'ls, stays'ls, 
and jigger, a truly magnificent sight and the first 
sail we had seen close aboard since leaving the 
Tarn O'Shanter off Sandy Hook. 

When abeam we exchanged the courtesies of 
the sea, dipping our ensign from the monkey gaff, 
and running aloft our "number," the gay string 
of lively colored flags, pennant, and burgee — 
J. V. G. B. of the International Code — ^the uni- 
versal language of the sea. 

The Shenandoah also ran up her number, a 
spot of color in the beautiful spread of white 
cotton canvas on her yards. The sky was dull, 
but the clear air set her off with cameo like dis- 
tinctness against the grey background of the 
horizon. The deep blue of the sea smothered 
white under her bow and, as she rolled gracefully, 
the yellow gleam of her copper flashed along 
under her sleek black side, or else we caught a 
glimpse of her white decks over the line of her 
bulwarks, as she dipped to leeward. 



122 UNDER SAIL 

We had sighted the sail ahead, and, having our 
starboard tacks aboard, were accorded the right 
of way. Hitchen, of the other watch, gathered 
with a group of us on the fo'c'sle head to watch 
the stranger drive past us. Being somewhat of 
a scholar, the little Englishman delivered himself 
of the following verse: 

"If close hauled on the starboard tack. 
No other ship can cross your track; 
If on the port tack you appear. 
Ships going free must all keep clear; 
While you must yield when going free. 
To sail close hauled or on your lee. 
And, if you have the wind right aft, 
Keep clear of every sailing craft." 

In obedience to this Law of the Sea, the four- 
masted ship Shenandoah starboarded a point, 
passing the Fuller well to windward, and some 
five miles south of the Island of Diego Ramirez. 



CHAPTER IX 

INTO THE PACIFIC 

AFTER close to two and a half months at 
sea we had reached the turning point on the 
long course to Honolulu. The Atlantic with its 
trials lay behind us, and just in our wake the 
sullen waters of the Horn lashed themselves 
against the coast of Terra Del Fuego. Ahead 
stretched the broad Pacific, greatest of oceans, 
and fraught with every angle of adventure that 
comes to the men who sail. Indeed the sailing of 
a great ship like the Fuller is the rarest kind of 
sport from the standpoint of seamanship, where 
every stitch of canvas is made to draw to its full 
capacity in every wind that blows. From the 
cold latitudes of the Cape up to abreast of Val- 
paraiso, we had good lively sailing. Great rol- 
lers followed us, for the winds were mostly fair, 
and, as the seas overtook us and expended them- 
selves to the north, we drove onward, cutting 
down the latitude in record time ; the cape pigeons 

123 



124 UNDER SAIL 

were left behind, but several albatross formed 
a convoy almost to the edge of Capricorn. 

During these weeks of strenuous weather a 
favored few of us were told off to lay up sennet 
for use in making chafing mats, and as "service" 
on the backstays, where subject to the wear of 
gear. We would perch ourselves on the coils of 
rope stowed on the fore hatch tarpaulin under 
the fo'c'sle head, where we were sheltered from 
the weather and at the same time within easy call 
from aft. 

Frenchy was the leading sailor in these arts 
and taught us to lay up round, flat, and French 
sennet. The less skilled men busied themselves 
in making nettles and foxes, using the primitive 
"spinning jinney," and rubbing down the small 
stuff with canvas to "smooth" it before balling. 
Here, too, we were initiated into the fine points 
of marling spike work, Frenchy, Brenden, and 
Jimmy Marshall showing the less knowing ones 
how to turn in many a splice and knot. Turk's 
heads of three, five, and seven strands were made, 
and the more difficult series of four, six and eight 
strands were mastered by some of us. Jimmy 
worked a wonderful set of manropes for the after 
companion, crosspointing them in red, white and 
blue, and topping them with rose knots. 



INTO THE PACIFIC 125 

I was delighted to pick up a vast amount of 
interesting and useful knowledge about the dif- 
ferent knots and hitches used at sea. How many- 
sailors today can properly cast a carrich bend, 
turn in a mariner's splice, or a Flemish eye, or 
work a cringle into a Bolt rope? Hitchen, of the 
starboard watch, taught us how to make the Eng- 
lish hag knot, an intricate and beautiful forma- 
tion cast in the bight of a line. 

Our work under the fo'c'sle head got all hands 
started, and during many a dismal wet dog watch 
we practiced the forming of every knot from the 
bowline down, Peter, the boy, and myself trying 
to outdo each other in the variety of our achieve- 
ments. Frenchy taught us a new way to form 
that "king of knots," the bowline, in which the 
loop is passed through the gooseneck twice, form- 
ing a double loop, a most useful knot employed 
in the French Navy. When a man is to be low- 
ered over side, he sits in one of the loops and the 
other is passed under his arm pits, the gooseneck 
coming against his chest. His weight tautens 
the part under the arms, and it is impossible for 
a man to drop out of this bowline, even though 
he becomes unconscious. 

In this manner much of the unrecorded lore of 
the sea was passed on to us in the Fuller as the 



126 UNDER SAIL 

same things have been handed down through the 
ages since the Phoenicians, the Norsemen, and 
the more ancient sailors of Cathay first rigged 
their barks, fashioning their bends and hitches in 
the same manner as the sailors of today. Where 
the marvelous knots originated, no one can tell. 
Who invented them, no one knows; but we do 
know that the rope craft of the sea is standard 
and defies improvement. It takes time to learn 
the knots, bends, hitches, and splices ; how much 
longer it must have taken to discover them can 
only be imagined. 

In time, much of this will be entirely super- 
seded by wire and steel, as indeed all lower stand- 
ing rigging is already of wire. But turnbuckles 
and riveted plates are part of the metal ships, 
unyielding and stiff, that buckle the hollow steel 
masts, or sheer the channel plates clean from the 
hull, when wrenched by the resistless power of 
the sea. 

In the days of wood, of tough live oak, and 
tarred hemp lanyards, with their "give" and 
"spring," the old style rigging knots and splices 
endured for thousands of years. Can steel and 
steam resist the hands of time as well? 

On the Fuller we were taught that everything 
had to be done just so to be "shipshape and Bris- 



INTO THE PACIFIC 127 

tol fashion," as the old sea phrase has it. It was 
always : 

Worm and parcel with the lay, 
Then turn and serve the other way. 

And the humblest tools have had their form 
decreed since the art of seamanship began. The 
serving hoard and the serving mallet used by- 
Noah; the fid, the marling spike, the sewing 
palm, and the caulking iron, are the ultimate 
tools of the most ancient handicraft; the art of 
building and rigging ships. We used all of these 
implements with industry as the blustery weather 
sent us up from the Horn to Honolulu. We saw 
how able sailors fit a cringle to the tough four- 
stranded hempen bolt ropes on the storm can- 
vas ; we learned the proper way to strop a block, 
with the splice where it belongs, as every sailor 
knows, and the throat seizing trapped and 
hitched in sailor fashion. 

The hours spent under the fo'c'sle head during 
those days of the voyage were not so tedious. 
The Horn was behind us and the prospect of fine 
weather ahead. Yarning was always going on, 
and often we spent the dog watches in making 
fancy plaitings and knottings for sea chest covers 
and the like. I realized that such men as Mar- 
shall, Old Smith, Hitchen, Axel, Brenden, and 



128 UNDER SAIL 

Frenchy were of a dwindling breed, soon to be 
as rare as the makers of stone axes, or the sea- 
men of the Roman galleys. 

One other sailor of the ship's company asked 
odds of no one in the range of his knowledge of 
the sea. Whatever else we may have thought of 
him, we were forced to acknowledge Mr. Zerk a 
seaman of the most accomplished sort. Versed in 
the art of wire splicing and up to every dodge in 
sailmaking and rigging, he combined the ability 
of the marling spike man with the gift of the 
larger seamanship involved in the handling of a 
vessel under all conditions. If his eye ever lights 
on this, and I hope it will, I herewith accord to 
him the full measure of my admiration, for the 
combination of these two types of sailor is rare; 
as rare as the few remaining ships of the school 
that brought him forth. 

The Fuller was a wooden vessel, Bath built, 
and coppered, not with the beautiful "red copper" 
we read about in Clark Russell, but with a com- 
position resembling brass, tough, yellow, and 
antifouling; a less expensive sheathing than the 
pure copper, and, to my mind, every bit as good a 
color, the bright yellow, between the deep blue 
sea and the black hull, striking a pleasing line 



INTO THE PACIFIC 129 

that glints like gold when the sun just hits it at 
the proper angle. 

Our ship was a full-bodied model, really a 
medium clipper, surprisingly sharp, and with a 
clean run aft that gave her a handy pair of heels 
in any kind of a favorable wind. Like most 
ships "of a certain age," the old girl was troubled 
with her timbers and joints. These had an un- 
comfortable way of sliding over each other and 
complaining in a truly agonizing manner. 

"She has lots of 'give' to her," one of the men 
remarked on our running into the first sea after 
leaving port. 

The working of the vessel's timbers kept her 
bilge "sweet" by admitting a liberal quantity of 
nice cool sea water seeping in all the way from 
the garboard strake to the channels, a circum- 
stance that necessitated constant pumping, back 
breaking labor that in heavy weather continued 
during the whole of the twenty-four hours, with 
two hands bending over the lee bilge pump. The 
wheel, the lookout at night, and the bilge pump, 
were taken in rotation by all hands. For back 
breaking, soul destroying labor, nominate the 
bilge pump. I had a standing offer in the fo'c'sle 
to stand two wheels for one bilge pump, Scouse 
and Fred and Martin being my best customers 



130 UNDER SAIL 

until I was dated up so far in advance on the 
steering that I had to take this on as well as the 
pumping, which came along oftener as it called 
for two men. 

In the matter of small trading we did a thriv- 
ing business in the fo'c'sle, some of us even 
branching out into foreign trade with the star- 
board watch. I was the one to introduce this 
practice on board the Fuller^ a relic of my school 
ship days, when pools were formed in the differ- 
ent messes and five and ten rations of cold corned 
beef traded off for potatoes, or potatoes and but- 
ter paid out as rental for the use of the precious 
frying pans of which there were a few on board. 
When I worked out a system of credits for dif- 
ferent kinds of grub on the Fuller it was found 
to be a source of diversion and made possible 
some adjustment along the lines of personal 
taste, in the matter of our meals. We had stock 
fish every once in a while, no doubt as a conces- 
sion to the Scandinavian contingent, to be found 
in eveiy ship that sails the seas. I invariably 
passed off my share of this delicacy to Fred or 
Martin and would be credited with their rations 
of apple jack, a stew of musty dried apples; or 
I would contract for half of their whack of lime 
juice and vinegar. 



INTO THE PACIFIC 131 

Mr. Zerk, with whom I always was a favorite, 
that is until we got to Honolulu, occasionally 
gave me a jar of preserves, of which he had a 
large store. These were home-made pickles and 
jams, and when brought into the fo'c'sle caused 
quite a commotion. 

"Rats with 'im and 'is rotten marmerlade," de- 
clared Jimmy in great dudgeon when I brought 
forward the first fruits of my "stand in." 

"Eat it yerself but don't ast no self-respectin' 
man to touch it," was the sarcastic way in which 
the haughty Marshall voiced his sentiments. 
"Wot do you say?" he demanded, glaring about 
the fo'c'sle to see if anyone dared dispute him. 

"Righto," piped up Joe. "That rotten skunk 
aft has poisoned the stuff, I'll bet." 

"No, it's good," I declared, dipping in with the 
tip of my sheath knife. It was a jar of very red 
cherry jam. It also had a very pleasant aroma 
as well as a pleasing taste. I purposely took a 
second very large helping and could see that the 
temptation to fall was great. 

"Here, Frenchy, don't eat any, now. Just 
taste it, perhaps it does taste a little funny." 

Frenchy tasted. "I don't know. It does taste 
funny," he said. 



132 UNDER SAIL 

"Here, gimme a piece o' tack," and Joe was 
sampling the jam very liberally. 

In a moment all hands, including Jimmy, were 
tasting it, and all declared it tasted funny. As a 
matter of fact it did taste very funny if we ac- 
cepted apple jack as a standard. 

As the last smear of jam was cleaned from the 
jar the hypercritical Jimmy had the nerve to re- 
mark, "That was the rottenest marmerlade I ever 
tasted." 

However, after that no questions were raised 
when I brought a donation forward, though to 
tell the truth these treats were scarce, as the 
mate's private stock ran out long before we got 
to Honolulu. 



CHAPTER X 



CABIN AND FO C SLE 



CAPTAIN NICHOLS was a good deal of 
a mystery to us forward. He seldom came 
on deck except for a few moments of a fine morn- 
ing, when he would bob up, "take a sight" and 
stump deliberately down the companion to the 
chronometer, counting the seconds out loud on 
his way. At noon he "took the sun" alone in 
solitary scientific grandeur; only once do I re- 
member seeing the mate take an observation. 
One noon, I was at the wheel at the time, our 
first officer came aft shortly before eight bells, 
carrying an ancient "hog yoke." His sleeves 
were rolled up, and a greasy shine on the arc of 
his instrument told of efforts at polishing. Some- 
how he could not get the sun to behave, for the 
curious relic seemed sadly in need of adjustment. 
He retired in disgust when the captain "made 
eight bells," and stumped forward without an- 
swering, when the skipper acked him what he had 
for altitude. 

133 



134 UNDER SAIL 

Tipping me the shadow of a wink, the captain 
went below to work up the position. 

The captain on the other hand was quite reg- 
ular in his methods of navigation. He watched 
the course closely, having a particularly fine tell- 
tale compass swung beneath the skylight in his 
private cabin, as every one of us had evidence by 
the uncanny way in which he would pop up out 
of the companion at the most unheard of hours 
of the night and walk quickly to the binnacle, 
and seldom except when the helmsman was off 
his course. 

I met the captain a number of years afterward 
in Philadelphia. He was then in command of a 
fine steamer and I was second mate of another 
vessel of the same line. In the course of a pleas- 
ant visit talking over old times on the F idler ^ 1 
asked him how he managed to keep such close 
watch on the navigation of his ship without any 
particular assistance from his officers. 

"By staying awake nights, sir," was his laconic 
reply. 

At any rate, whatever his method, Captain 
Nichols knew pretty well where we were at all 
times. 

On the old ships, and the Fuller was a very 
good example of her class, the master was housed 



CABIN AND FO'C'SLE 135 

in truly palatial style. On our ship the captain's 
quarters were spacious, taking up two-thirds of 
the cabin and running the whole width of the 
vessel, and fore and aft from the mizzen mast to 
the lazarette. The captain's stateroom was most 
conmiodioiis ; he enjoyed the comfort of slumber 
in a large mahogany bunk built after the lines of 
a Dutch galiot, as broad as it was long. This 
room took up the space of three ordinary state- 
rooms on the starboard quarter. At the foot of 
the companion was a cozy after cabin luxuriously 
paneled in mahogany between fluted columns 
of the same wood picked out with gold leaf at 
base and capital. Other rare woods of a lighter 
shade were inlaid on the center panels, and the 
whole furnishing of cushioned lockers, round 
table, and skylight, with its tell-tale compass, 
book and chart cases, gave it the air of a costly 
yacht cabin. 

His bathroom, connected with a large salt- 
water tanl^, filled each morning by the deck wash- 
ers, was on the port side, and two spare state- 
rooms opened into the after cabin from port. A 
bulkhead divided these private quarters from the 
forward or mess cabin, off which were the pantry, 
storeroom, steward's room and slop chest. The 
mates were berthed in two staterooms on either 



136 UNDER SAIL 

side of the after cabin, but their doors opened 
into a sort of thwart ship vestibule running the 
width of the after cabin just below the break of 
the poop. The mizzen mast came down through 
the after end of the mess cabin, and a large brass 
lamp swung in gimbals just below the long sky- 
light. 

A repeating rifle in a rack above the captain's 
bunk, and two revolvers on each side of the chart 
table, composed the offensive battery. A long 
brass telescope reposed in a rack in the com- 
panion, and at the foot of this was slung a very 
good mercurial barometer. Typical of the best 
traditions of the sea, such were the quarters of the 
after guard. 

Forward we were not done so well. The 
fo'c'sle took up the forward part of the deck 
house and was sheltered from the force of the 
sea and wind by the high break of the fo'c'sle 
head. These quarters were divided by a bulk- 
head running fore and aft, to separate the 
watches, and plain unpainted bunks lined the 
sides. Light was afforded by a poor lamp set in 
a hole in the wall between the two sides, a cheap 
expedient thought of, no doubt, by some thrifty 
soul who knew that this was far better than the 
traditional whale oil, or slush dip, of the hoary 



CABIN AND FO'C'SLE 137 

days when sailor men were shoved below decks 
in reeking quarters just over the fore peak. 

However, the fo'c'sle was home to us. We 
lived there and had our being amid an atmos- 
phere not altogether bad ; what we lacked in con- 
veniences we made up for in ingenuity. Above a 
few of the bunks were rough calendars marked 
on the woodwork, some of them from previous 
voyages. Brenden kept track of our position by 
notching each day on the scantling overhead. 
Under these marks he had signs that stood for 
the N. E. trades, the Line, the S. E. trades, 
etc. All sorts of little shelves were rigged up to 
hold tobacco, matches, ditty bags, well thumbed 
books, old newspapers, and what not. Lines of 
marlin were stretched above the bunks for drying 
clothes. 

The scheme of society within the sacred walls 
of our castle was a sort of despotic democracy. 
The ruling class, the able seamen of the watch, 
Marshall, Frenchy, Brenden, were the arbiters 
of all matters temporal and mundane. This was 
by mutual consent and should be so. In addition 
to this, Jimmy was the autocrat of the crowd and 
ruled us with an iron hand, though there was 
not a man forward but could have hove him over- 
board. 



138 UNDER SAIL 

Scouse, after the balance of power had been 
reestablished in the conflict with Joe, became one 
of the common folks again, and was glad of it. 
The bunks were arranged in order of desirability, 
the able seamen taking the best bunks on the 
upper tier and near the two ports or the lamp. 
Australia and I were about on a par as far as 
social standing went, and when it came to talk- 
ing about the mines or discussing matters other 
than those relating to the sea, we often took the 
center of the stage. 

Martin, who had been a wood turner in his 
youth, and Fred, who was a good average sailor 
with a discharge from the Revenue Cutter SeiY- 
ice, generally acted as spear carriers in our little 
fo'c'sle comedy. They were excellent eaters, both 
of them, standing well up in the forefront with 
Scouse and Joe; the rottenest cracker hash or 
the most greasy salt pork never phased them. 
To the mate these men were a constant inspira- 
tion in his flights of blasphemy, and hardly a day 
passed but that he vented his wrath on one of 
them. 

Never once during the entire voyage did any 
member of the crew miss a single bit of personal 
property. Add to this the fact that the general 
moral tone of conversation among us was far 



CABIN AND FO'C'SLE 139 

above the average of men who would consider 
themselves superior, and we have to at least re- 
spect the crew of the Fuller as they respected 
themselves. 

Chips, a melancholy Norwegian, a long, lanky, 
cadaverous knight of the caulking iron and the 
carpenter's bench, berthed in a little room next 
to the lamp locker. He was kept busy sounding 
the well, and making the constant repairs that a 
well groomed wooden ship requires. In the in- 
tervals of this duty he looked after the hatch tar- 
paulins sheltering the precious cargo, tended the 
running lights, served out the daily whack of 
water, oiled the tiller tackles, and sat down to 
dinner with the second mate. Poor Chips! A 
gentleman of the lower caste, eating aft and liv- 
ing forward. He was a good fellow, but far too 
gloomy for us, who were of the "people," light 
hearted ourselves and ready to crack a joke at 
the least opportunity. 

Chips had one other duty which he performed 
twice on our voyage round the Horn. On these 
occasions he was called upon to "salt the masts." 
A small plug was taken out of the lower mast 
heads, and salt filled into the hollow core of these 
great "sticks." The fore and main masts were 
"built up," that is, made up of four quadrantal 



140 UNDER SAIL 

pieces, scarfed full length, and banded by stout 
iron hoops. At the outside juncture of the built- 
up pieces they were beveled, forming the 
"chapels" of the mast, the latter being painted 
white and giving the lower masts on the fore and 
main a checkerboard appearance. 

Each morning of the voyage, and particularly 
during the fair weather part of it, we were exer- 
cised at the washdown. This is more than a mere 
part of the work at sea; it is an established in- 
stitution, a sacred rite that is carried on through 
all conditions of wind and weather. In the 
tropics the washdown is a pleasure, and also a 
necessity, as it alone keeps the decks tight and 
the ship sanitary. 

A "water spar" would be rigged over the side 
to leeward at a point in the waist abreast of the 
main hatch. A clump block and a single whip 
with a canvas water bucket, the rim weighted 
with a ring of lead, was used to haul aboard the 
water which was dumped into a deck barrel. Coir 
brooms, wooden buckets, and much slopping 
about in bare feet would usher in the day, no 
part of the deck being neglected. 

The routine was : At four o'clock in the morn- 
ing, "Get your gear on the pins," everything 
being laid up clear of the deck. "Rig water 



CABIN AND FO'C'SLE 141 

spar," and then old Chow would run out of the 
galley with a bag of hard bread and a big can of 
slops, while the Japanese steward would hurr}^ 
along the deck with a cup and saucer; coffee — 
cabin style, for the refreshment of the mate, who 
would sing out: "Get your coffee," and for a few 
minutes we would all sit on the main hatch, in 
fine weather, or crowd in the lee of the forward 
house if it was stormy, and dip into the steaming 
chicory. 

Then — "Get out your washdeck gear! Wash 
down!" and the day's work would begin. 



CHAPTER XI 

CLEANING HOUSE AND A CELEBRATION 

THE rough passage around the Horn — sea- 
going with the bark on — worked the discon- 
tent out of our systems, and with the return of 
fine weather, all hands cheered up and life be- 
came more and more worth living. The dog 
watches were lively, with hotly contested argu- 
ments on all topics under heaven. The less the 
debaters knew about a subject, the more they 
would have to say about it; resembling in this 
regard large numbers of more sophisticated folk 
ashore. Some of the discussions would last for 
days, being carried on as a serial story, from dog 
watch to dog watch, with overflow sessions on 
deck at night. As none of the contenders would 
ever budge an inch from their positions, the 
points at issue always remained undecided except 
in the fish argument, which was settled by the 
mate. 

For a long time Martin, Joe and Scouse in- 
dulged in heated discussion as to whether fish was 

142 



CLEANING HOUSE 143 

meat, or whether it was something else. Joe con- 
tended for the negative, that fish was not meat, 
while Martin and Scouse insisted that fish and 
meat were the same thing. 

Joe had two against him, but being quicker 
with his tongue he was able to hold Scouse and 
Martin pretty well in check. 

"If fish ain't meat, wot is it?" demanded Mar- 
tin. "Is it wegetables, or wot?" 

This always stumped Joe, but he stuck to his 
guns and came back stronger each time: "It's 
fish, that's wot it is, F-I-S-H-FISH!" his voice 
rising above everything else in the heat of argu- 
ment. 

The debate finally closed in a particularly vio- 
lent session that continued as our side went aft to 
muster in the second dog watch. 

"Fish you say!" shouted the mate at the un- 
heard of disrespect on the part of Joe, who was 
frothing at the mouth in the defense of his con- 
tention. "I'll fish you, you thick-headed ass," 
and as Joe woke up to the fact that a new cham- 
pion had come into the field, the whole watch 
broke into a laugh at the sequel. "Fish, is it? 
Well, I'll fish you good and proper. Get a 
pot of slush and rub down the mizzen topmast. 
Drop a spot, and you stay on deck tomorrow 



144 UNDER SAIL 

forenoon, you fisherman!" The last with biting 
sarcasm. 

Joe lay aloft with his slush pot, and as a bright 
moon gave him plenty of light at his work, it 
also enabled the mate to watch him closely. 
However, this ended the argument, much to the 
satisfaction of all of us, for it was a bit wearing. 

Jimmy Marshall had a large dog-eared Bible 
in his possession; a red stamp on the title page 
read as follows: "Property of Seamen's Bethel, 
Sydney. Do not take from chapel." While 
lying up with his arm in a sling, having been 
tossed between the spare main yard and the after 
bitts, by a sea, he delved industriously into the 
lore of the good book ; and when he was back on 
deck again Jimmy refused to chantey to the tune 
of * 'Whiskey," and his verses, when singing a 
rope to "Molly Brown," were painfully proper. 

Each night in the dog watch he insisted on 
reading from the Old Testament, starting at the 
very beginning. Jimmy had a pair of steel- 
rimmed spectacles, and to further his missionary 
work, he changed bunks with Scouse, so that he 
could be directly under the lamp, while the big 
red-head moved into the best bunk in the fo'c'sle 
right next to an open port. 

Jimmy worked his way through Genesis and 



CLEANING HOUSE 145 

got well started on Exodus by the time we picked 
up the S. E. trades. His pronunciation of the 
hard names was truly wonderful and required 
much careful wiping of his spectacles. By the 
time he was within hailing distance of Leviticus 
we were again approaching the doldrums and 
once more we unbent our storm canvas and 
shifted into the easy weather sails. 

Australia, one of the most consistent chron- 
ologists of the fo'c'sle, working by the brad-hole- 
and-peg method, using the stumps of burnt 
matches, pegged a hole around which he had 
scratched a circle. 

"The 'dead horse' is worked off," announced 
Australia, as we turned out for breakfast one 
morning, springing a surprise, as it had been 
more than a week since the subject was broached 
last in the fo'c'sle. March 5th, three months 
since leaving the wharf at South Street! It 
seemed a year in point of experiences. 

"Well," ventured Martin, "the boarding mas- 
ters are smiling today." 

"Yes, the lousy squeezers, I'll bet the Front 
Street House has a good dinner for the boss on 
my advance." 

"I hope he chokes, Joe," chipped in Fred. 

"Choking is too good for them; burning is wot 



146 UNDER SAIL 

they want," went on Joe, almost forgetting his 
breakfast in the heat of his indignation. "They 
take in Austraha and Martin and Fred and me, 
and wot do we get? Wot do we get? Why, a 
few days' grub and a lousy, dirty bed, wot ain't 
fit to sleep on, and then they send us out. We 
go down and sign, and the next day out to sea 
for us in this bloody hell wagon. A half a kit of 
dog's wool and oakum slops, took from some dead 
sailor, maybe, and rotten poor oilskins, and sea 
boots that is no good. A big bargain, and all for 
six quid — that's all — only six quid for the lot; a 
mess of fine wearin' rags. And today they col- 
lect their hard earned money and all we has to do 
is to ride down here on a yachtin' toor round 
Cape Stiff." 

"It ain't right. It's hell, that's it— hell!" 
agreed Australia. "Lookit me and Fred, and 
Mike, we was only in port two days. Just two 
days board and no advance money. Said the 
British Consul would get us sent back to the 
Ettrick. And that cost us six quid!" 

"Nothing ain't right," it was Jimmy who 
spoke. "You booze, and worse, you sells out 
your manhood an' your rights to low livin' pigs 
wot lives off" o' the likes o' us. Its principles wot 
you needs. Young men, take my advice and get 



CLEANING HOUSE 147 

principles. 'Ard? O' course it's 'ard to get prin- 
ciples, but they saves you a lot o' trouble an' you 
can put away a bit. I say live right and you'll 
be right." 

"How old are you, anyway?" demanded Bren- 
den. 

"Old enough to know my own bloody busi- 
ness," rejoined Jimmy, scenting a comeback on 
his reform precepts. 

"Well, now that your dead horse is worked off 
you can start in and save until you hit New York 
again." 

"Well, if I do save a bit, it's none o' the likes 
o' a Dutchman like you wot'll 'elp me spend it," 
and Jimmy hopped out of the fo'c'sle at eight 
bells sharp. The mate was so surprised to see 
him leading the watch aft that he promptly sent 
him up to the fore skysail to loose sail, for the 
night had been squally and the second mate had 
taken in the kites, a thing he was prone to do, 
while the mate always promptly set them again. 

After the argument about the advance, we all 
made up our minds to work off no more dead 
horses. As Australia put it, "A year at sea and 
a week in port, and nothing to show for it." 

Most of us had slop accounts to clear off with 
the skipper, and then the velvet would pile up at 



148 UNDER SAIL 

the rate of eighteen dollars a month, at that time 
standard wages out of the port of New York for 
deepwater sailors. 

None of the men had shaved for at least a 
month, and the crew forward presented a truly 
deep sea appearance; "Rooshin Jews on a ocean 
picnic," was the comment of Jimmy, who never 
shaved, and whose whiskers also failed to increase 
but rather diminished in their moth-eaten way. 

On the first Sunday of real fine weather, when 
the bushes were beginning to get uncomfortable, 
the fo'c'sle barbers got busy in both watches. 
Frenchy and Australia were the tonsorialists of 
our watch and after taking on all hands, Frenchy 
shaved Australia and trimmed his mustache. 
Hair cuts were had by all and the effect was 
good. Perhaps the feeling of cleanliness due to 
the trimming had something to do with the desire 
for a "field day"; at any rate, two of the men, 
Old Smith, of starboard, and Frenchy, went aft 
and got permission from the mate to have a cele- 
bration. 

The coming Wednesday was named, and as 
we were then on the edge of the S. E. trades, the 
day broke fine. Accordingly after breakfast that 
morning the watch on deck, all but the helmsman. 



CLEANING HOUSE 149 

were allowed to go forward and assist in remov- 
ing the contents of the fo'c'sle. 

The watch below also turned to, and green and 
blue sea chests with wonderful "tumble home" 
sides and fancy canvas tops; plain canvas bags, 
"the sailor's round-bottomed trunk"; bags with 
fancy eyelets and elaborate grommets ; well-worn 
blankets; knobby straw mattresses, the "donkey's 
breakfast" of the sea; and all of the humble fur- 
nishings of the fo'c'sle of a deepwater merchant- 
man, were hauled out on deck in the light of day. 
The fore rigging, the bottoms of the upturned 
boats on the forward house and the fo'c'sle head, 
were littered with these things as box and bag 
yielded up their contents to the purifying action 
of the sun. All of our salt encrusted gear was 
rinsed out in a barrel of rain water, saved for the 
purpose, until free from salt, as most of our 
clothing was so highly hygroscopic that the least 
fall of dew would make them damp and clammy. 

We then rigged the water spar, and with a lib- 
eral supply of sand and canvas and with ''hi-yi'* 
brooms we scrubbed our home until the place 
fairly radiated. The scuttle butt was cleaned out 
and re-charred, the fo'c'sle lamp taken down and 
polished, and two hands got busy and gave the 
ceiling a fresh coat of white paint, brightening 



150 UNDER SAIL 

up things to a wonderful extent, for this had not 
been done for some years. 

All doors and ports were left open to allow 
the fo'c'sle to dry out, and at noon both watches 
lunched together, "al fresco," under the shade of 
the fores'l. A hamper of chicken sandwiches, a 
case of cold beer, and a box of cigars would have 
delightfully rounded out our dinner of pork and 
pea soup. However, we were in a merry mood 
and the unaccustomed company of the other 
watch made the simple fare and weevil-ridden 
tack taste particularly good. Besides, relations 
with the after-guard were becoming more and 
more pleasant. The fight between Tony and Mr. 
Stoddard had faded from mind in the trying 
weeks that had intervened and the feeling of an- 
ticipation, as we neared the end of the passage, 
helped to make us receptive to better things. 

By gradual stages, without in any way com- 
promising their dignity, our experienced officers 
assumed a less harsh way of speaking; orders 
were mandatory to the last degree, of course, but 
less liberally spiced with profanity. An occa- 
sional joke on the part of those aft would send a 
ripple of laughter among the men pulling at 
sheet or halyard. The cook also felt the mysteri- 
ous balmy influence of the Pacific sunshine, and 



CLEANING HOUSE 151 

every other day we would be delighted with a big 
pan of ginger bread in the fo'c'sle. On Sundays 
we would have duff with real raisins in it. 

Honolulu was drawing near; none of us had 
more than a few dollars of pay on the books, and 
crews among the island and coast traders were 
hard to get, with pay correspondingly high. Per- 
haps this had something to do with the change of 
atmosphere. Even those who had the most rea- 
son to complain were beginning to cheer up and 
forget their troubles of the past. 

A clean fo'c'sle, dry, well aired bedding, and 
smiling skies, ushered us into the region of the 
equatorial rains. The flying fish began to zip 
through the air again with increasing frequency 
and the mates as usual gathered them up, but, 
strangest of strange things, the cook was told to 
send half of the catch forward. The daily thun- 
derstorms came with their accustomed regularity. 
At about eight bells in the afternoon watch it 
would cloud up suddenly, any sails spread out on 
deck, in the course of repair, would be hastily 
dragged to the sail locker or under the fo'c'sle 
head, and presto! — a rumble of thunder would 
follow the first faint flashes of lightning. Then 
several bright jagged discharges would come in 
quick succession, a clap of Jove's artillery, and a 



152 UNDER SAIL 

douse of rain, followed by the golden rays of the 
sun streaming through such rainbows as are sel- 
dom seen anywhere but in those latitudes. 

During a tropic storm at night, just after leav- 
ing the trades, we were roused out at midnight 
and ordered aloft to take in the t'gans'ls. The 
yards and rigging were soaked with rain, and, 
as we got to the tops, St. Elmo's fires started to 
flicker on the yard arms with a pale blue light. 
The night was black, and oppressive with the hot 
humid wind, we were wet and clammy, and the 
sleep was in our eyes when 

"And sudden breaking on their raptured sight. 
Appeared the splendor of St. Elmo's light." 

Jimmy Marshall, fear clutching at his heart, 
refused to mount the futtock shrouds; springing 
to the forward leg of the main topmast back- 
stays, he slid to the deck while the rest of us went 
aloft. The stoutest of us, however, were touched 
with superstitious feelings. The "corposants," as 
the men called them, started us on a series of 
ghost stories in the night watches on deck. A 
few days later we were becalmed in a dense fog, 
such as sometimes is encountered in the warm, 
damp region bordering the line. Joe went aft to 
relieve the wheel just after listening to a grue- 



CLEANING HOUSE 153 

some tale. A giant man out in the fog over the 
quarter reached for Joe when abreast of the open 
door of the wheel house. Joe nearly fainted with 
fright, at the sight of his own shadow thrown on 
the fog wall by the naked binnacle light that the 
helmsman had taken from the cowl to trim. 



CHAPTER XII 

MAKING PORT 

ONE hundred and seven days out from 
Sandy Hook, we crossed the line for the 
second time in longitude 122° west from Green- 
wich. The grooming for port then started in 
grim earnest. Holystones were brought out and 
the time-honored couplet of the sea. 

Six days shalt thou labor and do all that thou art able. 
And on the seventh holystone the deck and scrape the cable. 

became a matter of routine on board the Fuller. 
Captain Nichols had never been in the islands 
before, in fact none of us had, and we were to 
make our acquaintance with them dressed up and 
polished in Yankee form. 

The art of holystoning, as practiced on Ameri- 
can deepwater ships, deserves a special niche in 
the archives of the sea. No more thorough pro- 
ceeding can be imagined. To the steamship hand 
who holystones like a gentleman, at the end of a 
long handle, the art has lost its fine points. On 

154 



MAKING PORT 155 

the Fuller we dug into the work in deep sea 
fashion. Our knees became sore from constant 
"praying" and the skin on our hands was worn 
down thin, making us tender in hauhng at the 
braces or going aloft. To overcome the hardness 
of the deck, we rigged up pieces of board to which 
three cleats were nailed and a strip of old canvas 
stretched over them. This afforded a yielding 
cushion to kneel on and kept our legs out of the 
water swishing about with the rolling of the ship. 

We worked in gangs, sawing away with the 
stones and wearing a scum of wood from the 
deck. Each man soon became jealous of the 
work done by his shipmates and we were careful 
to keep all hands going, as there was a certain 
amount of deck to be gone over, and the sooner 
finished the better. In holystoning we used two 
sizes of stones, the larger ones called "bibles" and 
the small pieces, useful for getting into the cor- 
ners and along the edges of paint work, known 
as "prayer books." 

From the time of commencing to holystone, 
and slick up for port, there was no more watch 
below in the afternoon; the watch coming on 
deck at eight in the morning would stay on deck 
until six in the evening with a half hour below 
at noon for dinner. Going below at six, supper 



156 UNDER SAIL 

would be had and at eight the watch that had 
been on deck all day would turn out for the first 
watch at night. 

Thus, every other day, a watch coming on in 
the morning would have eighteen hours of duty 
on deck during the following twenty-four. On 
the other hand, the other watch would merely 
have the usual watch and watch. Of all diaboli- 
cal inventions for working men this afternoon on 
deck was best designed. 

While still in the doldrums, and after the holy- 
stoning had been completed, we were set to clean- 
ing the sides of the ship where the rust had 
worked through, and where the dirt from the 
scum rubbed off the decks had streaked long lines 
down from the scuppers. We liked this work, 
scrubbing the black sides, and painting. It al- 
ways seemed to me like a vacation to get outside 
of the ship and off of the familiar deck. Scaf- 
folds were rigged and sometimes our feet would 
dangle in the cool water on the shady side of the 
hull. 

One day there was a commotion as Brenden 
and I worked away on a plank slung beneath the 
mizzen channels. The water under us surged up 
and a great black object rose beneath our feet, 
for all the world like a submarine boat coming to 



MAKING PORT 157 

the surface. Outcries brought all hands to the 
ship's side. A huge whale had come up in the 
shadow of the ship. Some hands ran forward, 
and presently big Scouse came aft on the run 
carrying a harpoon from the bosun's locker and 
a coil of heaving line. 

As he was mounting the rail the mate jumped 
after him, yanked the harpoon from his grasp and 
sent the red head scurrying forward. 

"You damned mutton-headed ass!" he cried. 
"Do you want to send us all to the bottom? 
That's a razorhack. He'll ram us, quick as hell, 
if we rile him." 

The whale sank from sight as suddenly as he 
appeared, and, razorback or not, we had no op- 
portunity to try his temper. 

The sight of the whale started all hands for- 
ward looking for ambergris. This was described 
as a grayish amberlike substance to be found 
floating on the unsuspecting surface of the sea in 
large chunks of fortune, the finding of which 
would set a man up on a cosy farm for life, or 
enable him to see a snug retirement behind his 
own bar and beer kegs. Frenchy and Jimmy 
both had seen ambergris, and for a while regaled 
us with many tales of its origin, value and uses. 

One of the results of the prospecting over- 



158 UNDER SAIL 

board for ambergris as we lazed along in the 
tropic seas of the Pacific was the better knowl- 
edge we obtained of the abounding life in the sea. 
In after years when at sea on the decks of swiftly 
moving steamers, I have often pondered over the 
sights that were given us of the queer inhabitants 
of the deep as we slowly worked our way across 
the ocean in the Fuller. From her low decks, 
when becalmed, or when sailing along at from 
four to five knots in fine weather, especially in 
the tropic seas, the teeming life in the depths 
below was brought very close to us. 

The glint of queer fins, the vivid flash of some 
big fish rising near the surface in hot pursuit of 
prey, and the common sight of a school of flying 
fishes rising from the water just in time to miss 
the cruel jaws of their pursuers, gave us a faint 
idea of the ruthless rule of might below. Often 
the smother of white mist as the cloud of flyers 
would rise, and the swift black demons in hot 
chase under them, like avenging torpedoes tear- 
ing through the blue, would show glimpses of 
other and larger fish after the pursuers. 

Time and again we would lie out on the mar- 
tingale and look under the fore foot of the ship 
to see if there was a pilot fish around. These 
queer customers would swim along just under 



MAKING PORT 159 

the stem of the ship, convict garbed, in thwart- 
ship black and white stripes, and about two feet 
long. The presence of a pilot fish under the bow 
was evidence of a shark under the bottom of the 
vessel, swimming along in the hope that some- 
thing edible would be thrown overboard, or that 
the vessel would founder and disgorge her human 
freight into the deep. 

Whole flotillas of the dainty nautilus would 
sail by us for days. These "Portuguese men-o'- 
war," as sailors call them, spread a shell-like sail 
to the wind, pink and airy, gliding gaily before 
the gentle zephyrs of the line. They truly teach 
us a lesson, as Pope has it : 

"Learn of the Little Nautilus to sail 
Spread the thin oar^ and catch the driving gale." 

With the picking up of the N. E. trade wind 
a few degrees north of the line, we knew that the 
main haul to Honolulu was on its last stages. 
There was more easting in the wind than is gen- 
erally the case, and we made good progress, hold- 
ing a course well to windward of Hawaii. For a 
week at a time we cut through the water at an 
average speed above ten knots, going it night and 
day. The sailing was glorious and we all felt the 
thrill of it. Were we not rushing forward to a 



160 UNDER SAIL 

paradise set in the middle of the hroad Pacific for 
our rest and refreshment? We hungered for 
fresh provisions and for a decent sleep of more 
than a shade over three and a half hours at a 
stretch. The afternoons on deck had worn us 
down and the cooler winds bringing such speed 
and hope were a wonderful tonic. 

"Will I take in the skysails?" Mr. Stoddard 
asked of the captain one night as he came on deck 
to take the mid-watch. I was at the wheel turn- 
ing over the course to Axel, who came aft to re- 
lieve me. The Fuller was boiling along, every- 
thing taut, the white water in her lee scuppers. 

"No, leave them blow away," said the skipper, 
laughing. However, we found him on deck still 
at four in the morning and he took coffee with 
the mate before going below for a nap. But the 
skysails "stayed put" and indeed every bit of rag 
was doing noble duty. 

"The Honolulu girls have us in tow," was the 
slogan on board. 

At brace and sheet and halyard, we sung our 
ropes with a will, and a cheerier crowd of weath- 
er-worn, under-fed and half-rested humanity 
would be hard to find. Man is an adaptable ani- 
mal, more rugged than the beasts of burden, and 
cheaper than machinery, and in the lesson taught 



MAKING PORT 161 

us on the clean white decks of the Fuller is to be 
found the remaining hope for the survival of sail. 
It is cheaper, and with the advent of iron boxes 
rigged by means of screws, and bolts, and nuts, 
the sailor of the marling spike days will not be 
needed. Crews can be recruited, and fed for less 
than it takes to make steam, and men can be 
found to sail them, to drive them, as we were 
driven, and if they, too, are past masters at the 
art, to lull the crews into a state of con- 
tentment, and even happiness, after experiences 
that would cause a revolt in the worst peniten- 
tiary of the land. 

When in 154 degrees of west longitude, and 
21 degrees north latitude, Captain Nichols up 
helm and shaped a course direct for the northeast 
point of the Island of Molokai, the leper island 
of the Hawaiian group. We made the land just 
before nightfall. Anchors were got over the bow 
ready for letting go in case of emergency, and 
the dipsea lead was placed handy on the fo'c'sle 
head, the line being carried aft, outside of all 
gear, to the tub at the taffrail, in which the bulk 
of it was coiled. A small snatch block on the 
weather mizzen t'gallant backstay was ready for 
hauling in should we have to take a cast. The 
hand lead, or blue pigeon, was coiled in the miz- 



162 UNDER SAIL 

zen chains ; I was told by the mate to stand by in 
case we should have to use it, my schoolship train- 
ing having made me a good leadsman. 

All was excitement on board as we closed in 
with the land, the good smell of it coming out to 
us as we raced into the Kaiwi Strait, lying be- 
tween Molokai and Oahu, upon the southern 
shore of which Honolulu is situated. 

At midnight we were abreast of Koko Head, 
a peak near the eastern end of Oahu. We put 
down our helm and hauled our wind ahead, brac- 
ing sharp, under easy canvas, on the starboard 
tack, the ship heading north. Skysails, royals, 
and flying jib were allowed to hang in their gear, 
while we hauled up the mains'l, and furled the 
crojik, at the same time setting the spanker. 

At four bells in the mid-watch, closing in with 
the land faster than was comfortable to sailors 
accustomed to large sea room, we wore ship, and 
headed her back toward Molokai. 

We wore ship again before daybreak in order 
to hold the weather gauge off Diamond Head, 
and at the first streak of dawn we squared away 
and the Fuller was put under full sail as we bore 
down past Diamond Head for the entrance to 
Honolulu Harbor. 

A whale boat put out from the land carrying 



MAKING PORT 163 

the pilot, followed by a wheezy tug of diminutive 
build. We put down our helm, paid a hawser 
out over the bow to the tug, and as we horsed up 
on her the Kanakas started a panic cry on her 
decks, while the captain on the poop shouted 
rapid orders to both mates and we let our yards 
down by the run and swayed up on the courses, 
manning the clew garnets, clewlines and bunt- 
lines in feverish haste. 

"Take the lead!" the mate shouted to me, and 
at a nod from Captain Nichols, I sent the blue 
pigeon shooting out ahead into the clear blue 
water of the harbor entrance as we ran down be- 
tween the barrel and spar buoys that mark the 
fairway. 

"And a half, six!" I felt sand. "Hard bot- 
tom!" 

The pilot came over to me and looked curious. 
"No need of this, captain," he said. 

"Oh, give the lad some exercise, pilot," the 
skipper answered. "It won't hurt him." 

"By the mark, five!" 

We were running past the sea wall and the 
boathouse to starboard. I could see the light- 
house over the deck on the port bow. The tug 
was whistling, and as we swung to port, into the 
harbor proper, I noted the marine railway and 



164 UNDER SAIL 

the Pacific Mail Wharf with a lot of people on 
the Esplanade watching us come in. 

"Mark under water, five!" I shouted. 

"All right, Felix, come in ; that'll do," said the 
skipper, and a few minutes later I found myself 
on the mizzen skysail, furling sail. We were 
brought to in the stream by letting go the port 
anchor and casting off the tug at the same time, 
and, as the chain rattled through the hawse pipes 
in a smoke of rust, a whistle on a factory ashore 
blew a long blast of welcome. It was noon, the 
harbor life suddenly stopped, for we missed the 
faint rattle of steam winches and the shouting of 
the Kanaka stevedores at the railroad wharf. 

"Now give us a harbor furl, boys," called up 
the mate. And as we worked away, we noted 
the captain going ashore in the whale boat with 
the pilot. Below us stretched the most beautiful 
city in the world; cool looking green palm trees 
lined the streets^ the fat squat outline of the 
Punchbowl rose gratefully verdant behind the 
little city, a restful sight to our sea-weary eyes, 
and far beyond we looked up into the misty 
vista of the Nuuanu Valley. Stranger still, on 
the wharves we noted native and white women 
in their fresh looking white dresses, and we could 
hear the cries of children at play. 



MAKING PORT 165 

Laying down from aloft we squared yards, 
and went below for our dinner of pea soup and 
pork, with a kid of cabin tack — a piece of strat- 
egy on the part of Chow that was truly an in- 
spiration. The sight of weevils, and the near 
view of the clean sweet shore, would have been 
too great a contrast. 

We opened hatches that afternoon, ready for 
the port warden's inspection, ripping out the 
caulking of oakum and taking off the three lay- 
ers of tarpaulin, but not lifting the covers. We 
also sent down the fore and main courses and 
tops'ls, and cockbilled the main yard for a cargo 
boom, rigging the cargo pendant from the main 
topmast head, the same being stayed out over 
the main hatch by a fall from the fore topmast 
cross trees. 

At four o'clock the captain returned with a 
boatload of fresh provisions, joints of clean red 
meat, fresh vegetables, onions, green stuff, ba- 
nanas and pineapples, and a big basket of real 
baker's bread, the loaves rich and mellow in the 
sunlight, like bricks of gold. How our eyes 
popped out at the sight and smell of this treasure 
cargo from the shore! Our salt ridden senses 
were starved for something fresh and clean. A 
dozen hands rushed to the side to help unload 



166 



UNDER SAIL 



the boat, passing the grub up the ladder and 
carrying it in to Chow. 

Captain Nichols also announced that we would 
go alongside at Brewer's Wharf the next day. 

At six, in the evening glow of the harbor, we 
pumped her out and went below for supper. 
Vegetable soup, floating with fresh green things 
and rich in meat extract; steak, onions, and pota- 
toes! Have you ever been without potatoes for 
three months? If you have you will know how it 




feels to crave them. The fresh bread and the 
delicious ripe bananas topped off the meal. 

We were too full to speak, all hands together 
at our feast under the break of the fo'c'sle head. 
Millionaires cannot buy such appreciation, and 
our bellies were stretched to the utmost limit. 



MAKING PORT 167 

An anchor watch was set, by lot, of one hour 
tricks, and I was fortunate enough to escape. 
Before eight o'clock the fo'c'sle was heavy with 
slumber as we dreamed away the hours in such 
heaven sent rest as only the angels can under- 
stand ; we were one hundred and twenty-one days 
out from the port of New York, and our first 
night of unbroken sleep ahead of us. 



CHAPTER XIII 

IN HONOLULU TOWN 

We have had enough of action, and of motion; we 

Rolled to starboard, rolled to larboard, when the surge was 

seething free 
Where the wallowing monster spouted his foam fountains in 

the sea. 

Let us swear an oath and keep it with an equal mind 
In the hollow lotus-land to live and die reclined, 
On the hills like Gods together, careless of mankind. 

Tennyson. 

'ELL, now that we are here, what?" Joe 
put the universal question. "I hopes we 
has it a bit easy for a change," he went on, seeing 
that no one rose to his query, and no doubt some 
dim, subconscious yearning must have stirred in 
the recesses of Joe's mind; perhaps the sight of 
the palms may have wakened this, for in his 
clumsy way he voiced the spirit of the poet. In- 
deed we had all of us sensed the languor of that 
lotus-land in the humid morning vistas of heavy 
tropical foliage lining the avenues of the city, 

168 



IN HONOLULU TOWN 169 

and stretching far beyond into the blue-green 
richness of the Nuuanu Valley. After months 
of deep sea existence, the smell and feel of the 
ripe, luxurious land came to us with a powerful 
appeal. All of us felt this, but, sailor-like, the 
feeling was disguised in various ways. 

"I hope them bulls aft gives us a fair deal," 
went on Joe. We were at breakfast, both 
watches together, assembled outside the fo'c'sle 
doors. 

"Fair deal!" snapped Old Smith as he speared 
a spud. "Say, you young heifer, do you think 
you was brung all the way out to Honolulu for 
to loll back at your ease and eat the bread fruit, 
that we reads about, offen the fatness of the land, 
without no toil nor trouble? You'll get your 
damned good whack of sweatin' here. I know 
these ships, and it won't be just because the 
weather is hot, neither." 

This was followed by dire predictions of hard 
grinding to come, ghastly prospects fathomed 
from the depth of experience by such masters of 
discouragement as Jimmy Marshall and Aus- 
tralia. 

"Say, shut up, will you! Maybe it won't be 
so bad," piped Frenchy, who never liked to have 
his meals interrupted, especially when we were 



170 UNDER SAIL 

breakfasting on dry hash made with potatoes and 
onions, a real feed much needed by our hungry 
crowd. We had turned out at dawn for a hasty 
washdown, had put the long boat over the side, 
and rousing out a number of large manila haw- 
sers, had flaked them down in the boat ready for 
warping. The cable was hove short and the 
quarter moorings were taken in. In addition to 
this a number of the men under the second mate 
had completed the rigging of the cargo gear. 
The carpenter, with me helping him, had rigged 
the dolly, wedging it under the pinrail on the 
starboard side just forward of the main hatch 
with blocks of wood and a small jackscrew. The 
large cargo blocks had been hooked and moused 
to the pendants, and the falls were rove, all for 
the starboard side, as the skipper had inspected 
the berth and that was to be our side for dis- 
charging at the Brewer Wharf. 

Breakfast came as a rest, a breathing and a 
talking spell with a good day's work already to 
our credit. The change in routine, however, 
made the work seem easy enough, for we arose 
from our full night of rest with a feeling of 
wonderful vitality. Word came out that an 
island steamer would hold the berth at the Brewer 
Wharf until noon, and we were to warp in to the 



IN HONOLULU TOWN 171 

Oceanic Steamship landing to allow the port 
warden and the agents the opportunity to inspect 
the hatches and make a survey of the condition 
of the cargo, at the same time bringing us that 
much nearer our berth. 

A plunge overboard in the early dawn, the last 
man on anchor watch having called me a half 
hour before the rest, put me in fine fettle. All 
hands were eager to get foot ashore and the pros- 
pect of tying up to the beach filled us with ex- 
pectancy. The fresh grub, the full night in, and 
the electric atmosphere of contact with human 
aflPairs, gave us a keen sense of being again in the 
world of the living. After breakfast we sat 
around for a few precious moments smoking and 
yarning as we gazed toward the shore. News 
filtered out that the battleship Maine had been 
blown up in Havana harbor on the night of Feb- 
ruary 15th. War with Spain was imminent and 
the port of Honolulu was pregnant with impend- 
ing world affairs, made even more intense by the 
fact that there was no cable in those days and 
news came only at intervals with the arrival of 
the mail steamers. War might be declared at 
any moment and rumor had it that a squadron of 
raiders from the Philippines might descend on 
the port. 



172 UNDER SAIL 

The gunboat Bennington lay in the harbor 
with the old training ship Mohegan and constant 
gun drills were being gone through. 

We "turned to" promptly after breakfast, and 
while one watch carried out the lines the other 
manned the capstan bars and broke out the hook 
as soon as the warp was thrown over a cluster of 
piles on the Esplanade. When the anchor came 
up dripping with gray mud, the long warp was 
carried in over the fo'c'sle head and taken to the 
main deck capstan and we walked the ship along- 
side in the good old-fashioned way. 

At the string piece of the wharf there was a 
misunderstanding as to orders. The mate being 
in command took occasion to deliver his compli- 
ments to the second mate in no uncertain tones. 
So refreshing was the spectacle of wrath de- 
scending upon the head of the hated second mate 
that all hands stood idle grinning at the show. 
The old saying, "trouble aft; good times for- 
ward," at once went into effect. Mr. Zerk, see- 
ing his mistake, ordered Mr. Stoddard to his 
room, and then turned his attention to "the peo- 
ple" as we hustled out the breast lines and ad- 
justed the springs. We got the gangway over 
in jig time, to the great amusement of the dock 
loafers, and crowds of curious citizens, who had 



IN HONOLULU TOWN 173 

heard that a Yankee hell wag-on was alongside 
with the bucko mate in full action. 

When the gangway was lowered, Mr. Stod- 
dard walked ashore with as much dignity as he 
could muster, garbed in a wrinkled brown suit 
and a rusty, dented derby that struck a ludicrous 
note amid the straw-hatted natives on the wharf. 

"I hope he never come back," growled Tony, 
no doubt thinking of the day off the River Plate. 

"If ever I get him ashore " but the Italian 

did not finish, for we were hustled about lifting 
hatch covers and setting things to rights, the deck 
being littered with long bights of the wet haw- 
sers. 

Native boys offered to dive for pennies, but 
we had none to give, and enterprising Chinamen 
crowded on board with baskets of fruit and ham- 
pers full of bottled pop, the whole gang being 
driven ashore by Mr. Zerk with his best delivery 
of picturesque profanity. The Kanakas on the 
shore started to mock him, and that made matters 
worse, as none of us dared crack a smile. Later 
on Mr. Zerk was to learn that the happy, care- 
free natives were an independent lot, who would 
work under persuasion, but were stubborn as 
mules when driven. 

Captain Nichols came aboard with the port 



174 UNDER SAIL 

warden, and the top layer of cargo was examined. 
We carried a hundred tons of blacksmith coal on 
top of a general cargo, the coal being separated 
from what was below by old canvas and tar- 
paulins. One of the inspectors jumped down and 
tasted the coal for salt. Indeed it would have 
been mighty hard to tell whether the cargo had 
been damaged or not and, in a way, it was a bit 
of strategy on the part of the South Street steve- 
dores. After some discussion, the state of things 
seemed to pass muster, and a great many smart 
looking young men from the offices of the agent 
came down and looked over the ship. Most of 
them carried papers of some sort, and in their 
white duck trousers and their fancy silk shirts, 
brilliant neckties, and spotless shoes, we seemed 
to behold some favored species. No doubt they 
looked at us too, though without interest, we be- 
ing merely a lot of lean and leathery deepwater 
sailors dressed in common dungaree. 

The captain himself was no slouch when it 
came to dressing and on this occasion he upheld 
the dignity of the ship, and the great American 
Merchant Service, by sporting a wine colored 
cutaway suit. His shoes were shined like the gal- 
ley stove on a Sunday afternoon, and his heavy 
watch chain and fob dangled across his vest, 



IN HONOLULU TOWN 



175 



which was buttoned to the very top in spite of 
the heat. Of coui'se he wore a boiled shirt, and 
his black derby was of a square topped model, 
conservative and dignified. 

Inspection over and the island steamer out of 
our berth at the Brewer Wharf, we cast off and 
again warped our ship across the harbor. This 




AT BRE^VER S WHARF 



took up the remainder of the first day. The boss 
stevedore came aboard and we learned that the 
crew was to work aboard ship, breaking out and 
slinging the cargo. The "hatch man" and the 
"dolly man" were to be natives of the shore 
gang; two important posts, as upon them de- 
pended largely the speed of unloading. 



176 UNDER SAIL 

Word was passed forward that the captain 
would allow those of us who wished to, to draw 
against their pay on Saturday afternoon. In 
the meantime, it being Wednesday, we were 
alongside and free to explore the city in so far as 
such investigation could be carried on without 
the expenditure of coin. However we found the 
Chinamen ready to take "chits" for modest 
amounts. 

After pimiping out, and before knocking off 
for supper, the mate called Charlie Horse aft 
and appointed him night watchman. He was de- 
lighted with this billet, and except for a good deal 
of grumbling about not being told earlier and 
having a chance to get some sleep in the after- 
noon, he was well pleased. Charlie Horse had 
once been mate on a schooner, a fact that he never 
allowed us to forget, much to the amusement of 
such men as Australia and Hitchen. Jimmy 
Marshall resented all mention of it and more than 
once made cracks about the kind of "schooner" 
Charlie Horse was most familiar with. Charlie 
Horse, and no one ever forgot the Horse part 
of his name, which I believe was Horstman or 
something like that, never ventured an opinion 
without a great deal of deliberation, a trait that 
has much to recommend it, especially when at 



IN HONOLULU TOWN 177' 

times he was referred to during heated argu- 
ments. 

The long night shifts in Honolulu were well 
suited for one inclined to secluded thinking and 
deep contemplation. Besides this, Charlie Horse 
was to have the laugh on us after our second 
night in port. 

That first blessed night of supreme rest while 
our ship lay in the stream, swept by a cool sea 
breeze, was followed by a sweltering night of dis- 
content. Most of us turned in early, after a short 
stroll ashore, and in our ignorance of the cus- 
toms of the place, slumbered in innocent exhaus- 
tion without a thought of the perils of the night. 

Parts of New Jersey and Long Island are 
noted for their mosquitoes. Alaska is also some- 
what remembered on this account by unfortu- 
nates who have summered along the southern 
shores, but Honolulu in the historic year 1898 
could boast of one of the most vicious swarms of 
torturers lining the shores of the seven seas. We 
were ripe for them, our skins spiced with the 
salt horse and pea soup fluid that coursed through 
our veins. We were tired from the labors of 
the day, and slumbered unmoved while the en- 
emy put all that was exposed of us to the bayo- 
net. I lay stripped in my bunk gasping for 



178 UNDER SAIL 

breath, and in the morning found I was a mass 
of bumps, red and unsightly. The next day the 
china merchants along Nuuanu Street did a big 
business in mosquito bars, supplying us on the 
strength of our "chits" after the captain had veri- 
fied the statement that each man was to be paid 
five dollars, on account, at the end of the week. 



CHAPTER XIV 

UNLOADING — WITH A BIT OF POLITICS 

ALL hands working together made us better 
acquainted with the men of the starboard 
watch. Axel and I developed a lasting friend- 
ship, and of course Old Smith joined the higher 
councils of our watch. Hitchen and Mike and 
Tommy proved to be a great team of kidders, 
and with Australia, of our side, formed a dandy- 
quartette, singing such old time favorites as 
"Tom Bowling" and "All in the Downs." 
Hitchen, a very superior sort of sailor, an Eng- 
lishman, reticent about himself, but a volume of 
information about the ports of the world, was a 
great addition to our life aboard. In fact the 
men of both watches were sea worn and 
tired of each other, and we welcomed the new 
contact with our shipmates. Add to this the un- 
usual sights of the shore and the fresh provi- 
sions, as well as the possibility for rational sleep, 
and sailors will know what I mean when I say 
that we were a very happy lot of men aboard 
the Fuller. 

179 



180 UNDER SAIL 

Scouse had a large mouth organ, "Made in 
Germany," a gaudy tin affair well fitted for his 
capacious maw. Tony had an accordion, and 
no one could deny that we were a lively crowd 
forward. On the other hand the people aft were 
shrouded in gloom. The mate lived very much 
alone and Captain Nichols was separated by 
more than a bulkhead from his first officer. Chips 
was also a lonesome figure, dining in dreary state 
at the second table. Tommy said that since the 
second mate had gone, the Jap boy felt it be- 
neath his dignity to wait on Chips, and the lanky 
carpenter found the table set with all that he was 
to have at one load, soup, meat, dessert, etc. "I 
wisht they'd let me at it once," said Joe, his 
mouth watering at the mention of dessert. 

The second mate did not return on board the 
night following his racket with the mate, and 
we were in hopes he would quit the ship. Our 
wishes were realized, for the afternoon of the 
second day in port, while we were in the midst 
of breaking out the coal in the main hatch, IMr. 
Stoddard came to the coaming and looked do^^n 
on the grimy crowd shoveling coal. He carried 
a dilapidated satchel and had evidently been 
paid off* by the skipper. 

"So long, you dirty bums!" he called down. 



UNLOADING 181 

sending a squirt of tobacco juice into the midst 
of the coal-dust and sweat-covered gang. 

Tony, who was in the hatch, dropped his round- 
nosed shovel, and picking up a lump of coal hove 
it at Mr. Stoddard, just missing him as he dodged 
back from the coaming. 

"Wait until I get you ashore, you dirty ~ 

=^ ," shouted our ex-officer, shaking his 



fist at the hatch as he ran over the gangway. 

"Thank heaven he's gone," I remarked to 
Frenchy, both of us looking down at the play 
from our perch on the fore tops'l yard where we 
were unreeving the downhauls. 

"A good thing he's done with us, and the ship 
saves thirty dollars a month while we are in port," 
was Frenchy's wise comment. 

That night Tony and Tommy went ashore for. 
the purpose of finding Mr. Stoddard and beat- 
ing him up. The ex-second mate was boarding 
in a Chinese house in Beretania Street, according 
to reports from some of the Kanakas, and the 
two avengers trailed him from that place to the 
Criterion saloon. 

The true story of what happened was long ob- 
scured, for both Tony and Tommy came aboard 
very late and turned in refusing to say anything 
until the next morning, when they were given the 



182 UNDER SAIL 

third degree by the exacting masters of fo'c'sle 
affairs in the persons of Jimmy and Australia. 

The stories did not tally and for a long time 
it was thought that Mr. Stoddard had given them 
more than they counted on. The truth came out 
when Chips told the yarn to some cronies on the 
beach. It seems that Mr. Stoddard met Tony 
and Tommy as he was leaving the saloon. Their 
determined manner, and clenched fists, at once 
warned him of trouble. With a knowledge of 
sailor psychology, nothing short of masterly, he 
advanced toward them in true "come on" style, 
greeting them with a warmth of cordiality en- 
tirely unexpected, and a moment later Tony and 
Tommy were with him at the bar drinking im- 
ported beer at two bits a glass, and wondering 
how they had ever been so mistaken in him. 

No doubt Mr. Stoddard would have got his 
licking had he remained in port, but we learned 
that he shipped before the mast on the bark 
TV, H. Dimond bound for San Francisco. 

A day at the coal got us rid of that objection- 
able part of the cargo, and when we took up the 
tarpaulins we found a large consignment of case 
oil filling most of the 'tween decks. Case oil, 
let it be known, is kerosene in large square cans, 
packed two in a case, and nicely calculated as 



UNLOADING 183 

to weight so that a good husky sailor man can 
just about lift one of them without straining 
himself too much. However, I can vouch for the 
fact that these cases are very hard to handle and 
get heavier and heavier as the exercise is con- 
tinued. 

The stevedores ashore, so we learned later, 
were Republicans, a jolly lot of progressive Ka- 
nakas, demons for work and constantly chatter- 
ing like crazy brown magpies. On the other 
hand, the donkey crew, the man at the dolly, and 
the hatch man, a lively Kanaka named Nigger, 
were Royalists of the bluest strain compatible 
with their swarthy complexions. The Royalists 
did their level best to send the case oil out on 
the wharf so fast that the lowly Republicans 
could not handle it. Below decks, in the stifling 
heat, we labored in gangs, running the cases to 
the square of the hatch from two sides, while Old 
Smith and Frenchy adjusted the slings about the 
stacks of twelve cases and up they would shoot. 
It seemed that the cargo hook was constantly 
dangling in the hatch like a hungry black worm 
while that demon Nigger raised a hell of sweat 
and hurry with his constant shouting to '^'Hook 
her up! Hook her upT and every few minutes 



184 UNDER SAIL 

the mate would bend over the hatch and roar 
down his bit of encouragement. 

My job was to help hand the cases down from 
the tiers, lifting them to small trucks upon which 
we rushed them to the hatch opening. A half 
day of this exertion found us pretty well blown, 
and when the noon whistle sounded over the har- 
bor we got on deck, bolted our dinner and 
stretched out on anything that was handy and 
relaxed. Some of the boys slept, but I was too 
sore to sleep and had a feeling that it was better 
to stay awake, anyhow, as the rest would seem 
longer. 

When we turned to at one o'clock the gang on 
the wharf started to howl defiance at Nigger and 
his men, and the ciiiel ball began again with the 
mate, as king driver, egging along the perform- 
ance. Being rid of the second mate and with the 
captain ashore, he was thoroughly enjoying him- 
self. 

The cases of oil were hard to grab hold of, and 
as I have said, got heavier and heavier as the 
weary day advanced. Cursing and sweating in 
hot 'tween deck, we strove hke mad to keep up 
our end of the fight. 

"Don't let them niggers beat us," shouted 
Brenden, as he dug in with renewed energy, the 



UNLOADING 185 

sweat dripping into his eyes as he began slinging 
down the cases hke a madman. 

"The dirty black bastards!" shouted Jimmy. 
"I hopes they croaks afore I sees the last o' this 
place." 

By the time the afternoon was half over my 
arms and back were numb with pain. I had 
ceased to sweat and every effort was made by 
super-force of will. We were red-eyed with the 
labor and the heat ; swearing had ceased, and we 
plugged along doggedly as the damnable Nigger 
kept up his constant bawling to "Hook her up!" 
or "Liki! LikiT (meaning "the same"). 

Frenchy, who was under the hatch, suddenly 
brought us to our senses. "Rain, boys! Rain!'' 
he shouted. 

In our torture we had not noticed how dark 
it was getting, and when the first large cool drops 
pattered down on the 'tween deck hatches cov- 
ering the cargo in the hold, we knew that relief 
was at hand. A minute more and the rain came 
down in tropical torrents while we struggled to 
get the big strongback into place, the hatch covers 
on, and the tarpaulin spread. Our black tor- 
mentors had fled to cover under a nearby shed, 
and the donkey engine crew were drawing the fire 
from beneath their boiler. Nigger, too, had dis- 



186 UNDER SAIL 

appeared, for Scouse came up determined to 
take a fall out of "that black ." 

To say that we were thankful for the rain is 
mild; we were saved by it, nothing less, and as 
we went to the fo'c'sle that night we were as 
badly beaten a lot of men as ever cumbered the 
port of Honolulu. 

"Say, Smith!" yelled Joe, shouting through 
the partition that separated the fo'c'sles. 

"Well, what do you want?" 

"You was right when you said sumthin' about 
me workin' here," 

"I told you you'd sweat, didn't I?" shouted 
back Old Smith. 

"Say, Smith," in a chastened tone. 

"Yes?" 

"Was you sweatin', too?" 

"Shut up! Shut up!" cried Jimmy in alarm. 
"If you wants to start a fight, do it tomorrow, 
an' let your betters get some rest." 



CHAPTER XV 

HAWAIIAN HOSPITALITY 

ON a fateful Saturday night, the one when 
we drew five dollars apiece against our 
payday, Peter, the boy, and I decided to go 
ashore and have our hair cut by a regular barber 
and then indulge in the pleasure of a luxurious 
bath with plenty of soap and a good big tub of 
hot water. After the hair cut the bath — and this 
took us to a Japanese establishment that was 
conducted upon true oriental lines. As a bath 
house it was Al, but in addition to the supply of 
hot water, which was drawn by a female attend- 
ant, I found that she (the attendant) was ready 
to remain and assist in the scrubbing. Being of 
a modest turn of mind myself, and unable to con- 
verse with this would-be helper, I finally made 
known my desire for her removal by pushing her 
through the door. The floor was slippery and in 
my embarrassment I may have given her too 
hearty a shove, for she lost her footing and shot 
out in a most undignified manner, "cutting the 

187 



188 UNDER SAIL 

star" as we used, to call it when skating. Peals 
of laughter sounded through the flimsy walls, the 
Japs taking the whole thing in good part. 

However, in the native Japanese quarter, this 
sort of thing was considered proper, and, as I 
afterward learned more of the Japanese, while in 
their islands, I found that it was all a simple mat- 
ter of point of view and nothing at all extraor- 
dinary. 

Of Peter a great deal might be said. He was 
a type of the young American who will, when 
circumstances force him into it, go to sea. How- 
ever, I have only touched upon him lightly, as he 
in no way represented that bygone breed of sailor 
that made history on the hard square riggers of 
that day. 

Peter had a delightful voice that passed in 
Honolulu in lieu of real coin, at least among the 
Kanakas, where his wit and general good nature 
won him many friends. We attended a luau up 
in the Nuuanu Valley, a real native feast where 
we were received royally because of the high re- 
gard in which Peter was held by the Kanakas. 
Poi, one finger stuff, and none of your poverty 
stricken watery three and two finger poi of the 
stevedores and little island traders, was on the 
bill of fare. Pork, fish, and fruits of all kinds 



HAWAIIAN HOSPITALITY 189 

afforded by the islands were served to us on 
ti leaves, while swipes flowed freely. 

Peter sang "Hawaii Ponoi" over and over 
again with our hosts, and we wound up late at 
night with the native girls dancing the Hula 
Hula. All very decent, of course, but calculated 
to impress one with the broader range of vision 
accorded simple strangers traveling in that land 
of song and sunshine when without the stodgy 
hall mark of smug respectability to hamper them 
in their enjoyment. Peter astonished the natives 
by sleight of hand tricks with a pack of worn 
playing cards, and before we left them had dated 
us up for another engagement. My head the 
following morning was something to be remem- 
bered with respect, and I swore off all further in- 
dulgence in the Kanaka's wonderful hospitality. 

On board, our routine became more established. 
After the consignment of case oil was put over, 
we found the work less trying and were better 
able to meet it as we accustomed ourselves to the 
new labor, although the Republican-Royalist 
feud continued to the end of our stay. In the 
main hold, directly below the hatch, we carried 
a locomotive boiler. Getting this overboard called 
for some seamanship on the part of the mate. 
He strengthened the main yard support by extra 



190 UNDER SAIL 

tackles, and hoisted the fish fall up to the cargo 
pendant, which in turn was backed by several 
parts of wire rope. The yard purchase was re- 
placed by a fourfold tackle rove off with new gear. 
Once ready, we sent the boiler over the side in 
good style, setting it squarely on a flat car. 

While this special gear for getting over the 
heavy freight was being rigged, the remaining 
running gear of the braces was unrove, coiled and 
marked for stowing while old stuff was sent up 
to take its place, as all such untarred rope deteri- 
orates rapidly when exposed to the dust of the 
port for any length of time. Following the dis- 
charge of the boiler we roused out a large num- 
ber of cases of heavy machinery, all to be assem- 
bled as a complete locomotive. The Fuller was 
stowed with a very mixed cargo, her manifest 
containing every kind of agricultural and house- 
hold implement imaginable. Castle and Cook, a 
large importing house in the Islands, got a lot of 
our cargo and as we would unload a consignment 
of stuff for them they would run an advertise- 
ment in the daily papers — 

CASTLE AND COOK, Large assortment 
of the best fruit jars with patent screw tops 
just received from the States by Ship A. J. 
Fuller. 



HAWAIIAN HOSPITALITY 191 

Had we been wrecked on a desert island, our 
freight would have set us up as a very respectable 
lot of Robinson Crusoes, for we brought the most 
general of general cargoes. 

After a week in port, my mosquito mottled 
face having subsided to nonnal, I presented a 
letter of introduction to Mr. William H. Mc- 
Inerny, at his place of business on Fort Street. 
Mr. Mclnerny, his mother, sister and brothers, 
were most kind to me, and I enjoyed their hos- 
pitality with an appreciation made extra keen by 
the life of the ship. Clean table linen and all of 
the ordinary necessities of civilized existence 
seemed extra good. On the other hand I had 
sense enough to appreciate the life aboard ship. 
This was never dull, and was soon destined to 
become particularly strenuous. 

Mr. Mclnerny called for me frequently of a 
Sunday and took me driving behind a pair of 
fast horses. His first appearance on the ship 
aroused the gravest sort of suspicions in the mind 
of the mate. He eyed me critically when I went 
ashore in my best Sunday suit, pressed the night 
before by a Chinaman on Nuuanu Street. As 
we drove off, so Peter told me afterward, the 
mate shook his head as much as to say, "Another 
young fellow gone wrong." 



192 UNDER SAIL 

The next morning there was considerable cold- 
ness in the manner of the mate, but nothing ac- 
tively malignant. He gave me no harder work 
to do than before, but he did not condescend to his 
customary gruff camaraderie. 

When Mr. Mcinerny called for me again on 
the following Sunday with a different rig and 
another pair of high steppers, Mr. Zerk became 
thoroughly disgusted. On Monday he called me 
aft just before we turned to after the washdown, 
and made some very sarcastic remarks about my 
*'dude friend." 

"I suppose you will be getting out of the ship?" 
he ventured. 

"I have never thought of getting out," I an- 
swered. 

''Well, I was just thinking that you might 
have a chance to get out. Maybe your friends 
with their horses and carriages would not like to 
see you working too hard." 

"I suppose they would hate to see me work 
hard, seeing what an easy time I am having now." 

"Damn your hide, they will hate to see you 
work before I get through with you. Call that 

thick ass Scouse aft and that 

Joe." 

When these unfortunates arrived they found 



HAWAIIAN HOSPITALITY 193 

Mr. Zerk under a heavy pressure of bottled-up 
wrath. The whole silly business had so exas- 
perated him that he fairly sizzled with madness. 
Heretofore his outbursts were mostly impersonal, 
at least they always seemed so to me; merely a 
part of the day's work. We were now turned 
over to Chips and found that he had received in- 
structions to clean out the limbers of the ship, 
starting in the fore peak and working aft as the 
bottom of the hold was uncovered. From that 
time on until the ship was discharged I was kept 
at the most disgusting work of the voyage. 
Bucket after bucket of a thick sludge, the results 
of a previous voyage to the Orient, when the 
Fuller loaded some filthy cargo in Hong Kong, 
was lifted out. Of course she was never cleaned 
in New York, where the crew was always dis- 
charged as soon as the hook went down, and no 
longshore laborer would do the work we were 
set to. 

After three days of this Joe said to me as we 
came up out of the hold covered with filth: "Here 
is where I quits. To hell with this. That rotten 
bull aft thinks he can work anything off on us. 
Some may be soft an' easy, but," and here Joe 
came in strong, "I can get thirty dollars a month 



194 UNDER SAIL 

in the coasters, an' I won't be leavin' much. To 
hell with the rotten skunk, says I." 

That night Joe found a chance to go out on 
the barkentine Irmgard due to sail in two days 
for San Francisco. Like most of the craft trad- 
ing to the Islands from the coast, the Irmgard 
was glad to pick up a deepwater sailor. Joe 
agreed to work his passage to Frisco and would 
then sign on regularly before the U. S. Commis- 
sioner. Joe wanted Scouse to join him but the 
big fellow shook his head as Joe urged him, dur- 
ing the next two days down in the bilge dirt. 
All conversation on the subject of Joe's depar- 
ture was taboo in the fo'c'sle, though Joe worked 
hard to have Scouse join him, even going so far 
as to see that it would be all right for him. to 
ship in Frisco. 

"No, Choe, I don't do no more pilge cleaning 
when I ged back. Dere ain't no rotten pilges 
on farms, ant you never knows what rotten back- 
ets you ship on. I stand dis ant, den, no more." 

The night that Joe left we got his clothes 
ashore over the bow. All he had was a round bot- 
tomed sailor's trunk — a canvas bag. Joe was a 
favorite with all of us, and his bag bulked large 
with parting gifts of clothing. In addition to 
this we aU chipped in, at the suggestion of Old 



HAWAIIAN HOSPITALITY 195 

Smith, and at a tarpaulin muster, though it was 
near the end of the week, we managed to find five 
dollars. Let it here be said that after the first 
generous advance of five each, the Captain cut 
us down to two dollars each week, and held down 
on the slop chest. Of course five dollars was out 
of the question, as the pay per month was only 
eighteen. 

Also, in the details of Joe's departure we had 
to keep everj^thing from Charlie Horse. As 
watchman he would undoubtedly be blamed for 
not reporting the desertion. As it was, Charlie 
Horse was given a hard call by Captain Nichols, 
and later on he thanked us for keeping him in the 
dark. Charlie was a decent sort and said he was 
glad he did not have to lie about the affair when 
called aft. 

"Joe's going," Frenchy whispered this to me. 
It was near midnight and Joe had returned as 
he promised, after depositing his dunnage in the 
fo'c'sle of the Irmgard^ only a few wharves away. 

*'Good-by, boys." 

"So long, Choe. Goot-luck. Goot py," the 
last from Scouse. Joe slid down one of the bow- 
lines and we watched his dark figure walking 
along the wharves. Under a street lamp on Nuu- 



196 



UNDER SAIL 




C koaXsjutV^Mv*:, 



HAWAIIAN HOSPITALITY 197 

anu Street Joe waved back at us on the strength 
that we were watching him. 

We all felt sorry to lose Joe. Scouse was es- 
pecially gloomy over his departure, and I missed 
the happy-go-lucky fellow in our work below. 

Next morning when Joe failed to show up at 
the wash down, Mr. Zerk was furious. Charlie 
Horse came in for a round of abuse and all hands 
in general were cursed fore and aft and athwart- 
ship. In it all I seemed to detect a certain note 
of insincerity. In fact the mate was glad that 
Joe had left ; it seemed to please him that the drill 
in the limbers was tough enough to have had that 
result. 

No one was assigned to take Joe's place, but 
after a week of it Scouse was relieved and Tony 
became my partner in filth. 

"I suppose we will have other deserters," said 
the mate, coming down and looking us over. His 
words were evidently intended for me. 

"I don't think so, sir. Scouse doesn't mind this 
a bit," which was a foolish remark, but at least 
resulted in giving the red head a relief. 

I kept fit by getting up an hour earlier each 
morning than the rest of the crowd and taking 
a plunge overboard as a bracer, swimming about 
the ship. In the evening, being too dirty to give 



198 UNDER SAIL 

a hand in pumping out, I had the pleasure of a 
plunge into the cool waters before supper. I 
always washed out my dungarees as soon as I 
came up, and alternated, leaving the ones last 
worn to have a good sunning. 

Captain Nichols saw me one noon looking 
rather dirty. He may have remarked the fact 
that he had seen me in the same state some ten 
days before, when the grind first started. 

"What are you doing?" he asked. 

''Cleaning out the limbers, sir." 

"How do you like it?" grinning. 

"Fine; wish the ship had four instead of two, 
sir. 

This seemed to tickle the old man, and what- 
ever he did I don't know, but the next day the 
mate came below and lifted a horrible fuss about 
the way things were dragging, with Chips at his 
heels saying "Yes, sir, yes, sir," so fast that the 
mate turned on him and asked him if he had St. 
Vitus's dance. "Yes, sir," answered Chips, before 
he realized his mistake. "Well, then, get the hell 
out of here and let me finish this." Four extra 
men were sent down and the job cleaned up the 
next day. 

I was mighty glad when the drill was over, for 
to tell the truth my health was beginning to suf- 



HAWAIIAN HOSPITALITY 199 

f er from the nasty grind and the constant breath- 
ing of foul air. In the fo'c'sle, too, the boys were 
more than decent about it. "Well, you stuck it 
out," was the opinion. 



CHAPTER XVI 

HONOLULU OF THE OLD DAYS 

HONOLULU harbor in 1898 retained more 
than a trace of its old time flavor of ro- 
mance. In later years, when I again visited the 
port, the improvements had entirely eliminated 
many old landmarks that spoke so clearly of the 
historic past. At the time we were there in the 
Fuller, the remains of the hulk that once was the 
famous, or perhaps I should say infamous, Ha- 
waiian man o' war, Kaimiloa, lay bedded in the 
mud flats at the delta of the Nuuanu River, a shal- 
low part of the harbor between the railroad wharf 
and the waterfront of the city. 

The Kaimiloa, a vessel of 170 tons, had once 
been called the Explorer, and was then engaged 
in the copra trade. King Kalakaua purchased 
her (she was a wooden steamer, by the way) for 
$20,000, and had her refitted as a ship of war. On 
the 17th of May, 1887, she was dispatched to 
Samoa to strengthen the hands of the embassy. 
Robert Louis Stevenson wrote, "The history of 

200 



HONOLULU OF THE OLD DAYS 201 

the Kaimiloa is a story of debauchery, intrigues, 
and waste of government property." 

On this memorable cruise she was under the 
command of a half -pay British naval officer who 
must have been possessed of a keen sense of hu- 
mor. "The Primacy of the Pacific" was King 
Kalakaua's dream, and the H. M. S. Kaimiloa 
was the apple of his eye. Her armament, so far as 
I could find out, consisted mainly of a heavy sil- 
ver service boasting several large caliber punch 
bowls. In every way she was appointed with 
a view to the pleasure of the monarch. 

In Samoa she got into difficulties. German 
men o' war in the port refused to recognize her 
colors, or return her salute, and she finally de- 
parted, returning to Honolulu by way of Pago 
Pago (what's in a name?), where her half -pay 
commander exchanged her small arms for gin, 
and had a month's debauch, as a sort of bracer, 
before reporting home to the Kanaka Admiralty. 
This cruise is said to have disgusted King Kala- 
kaua with his navy, and further support was 
withdrawn. What became of the silver service, 
the armament, or the half-pay commander, can- 
not be recorded by the writer. 

The forlorn remnant of this royal hulk, with 
planks bleaching in the sun, centered upon an 



202 UNDER SAIL 

interesting sector of the harbor. Here in the 
shallow weed-grown water numerous native 
women, wearing extremely proper Mother Hub- 
bard Avrappers (when dry), were always fishing 
industriously. No lines or nets were used, but 
the finny unfortunates were caught between the 
toes of the fishers. The fact that the natives of 
the islands relish live fish only added to the fas- 
cination with which we observed their operations. 
The harbor was also the scene of much active 
fishing by the Japanese, who employed a seine 
and several small sampans. So changed was all 
this when the writer returned to Honolulu, some 
eight years later, that it was with a pang of re- 
gret he recalled those old romantic, inefficient 
days. 

Not far from the Fuller was the berth of the 
Morning Star. We could look over her decks 
as our ship rose higher with the discharge of her 
cargo. This famous missionary craft was a 
yacht-like three-masted schooner with auxiliary 
steam, the mizzen being built of steel and serving 
her as a funnel. The comings and goings of the 
missionary folk, male and female, for they bus- 
ied themselves mightily on board the pretty craft, 
furnished us with something to look and wonder 
at when we were not otherwise engaged on board. 



HONOLULU OF THE OLD DAYS 203 

We established friendly relations with her 
crew, meeting some of them ashore at the con- 
certs. Frenchy made the acquaintance of her 
cook and the "doctor" presented him with a can 
of curry powder. But no matter how friendly the 
crew of the Morning Star might be when ashore, 
they were careful to never go aboard the Fuller; 
also the moral atmosphere of this vessel was so 
strong that it pervaded the clothing of the whole 
ship's company, for none of them ever was seen 
in any of the barrooms frequented by sailors. 
However, Peter had met them while attending 
lauas and they were as fond of swipes as the next 
man, quite human, even to the extent of getting 
gloriously drunk. 

One class of visitors on board the Morning 
Star J who seemed in the majority, were the army 
officers. And by the word "army" as generally 
used in the capital of the Hawaiian Republic 
at that time, was meant the Salvation Army. 
The Salvationists were very influential in affairs 
along the waterfront. We had been in port about 
a week when their advance guard came over our 
rail, sort of spiritual Uhlans descending upon us, 
after dusk, as we sat about between the time of 
clearing away the supper kids and lighting our 
pipes for a stroll ashore. And let it here be said 



204 UNDER SAIL 

that whatever good they may do in other fields, 
and there is no denying this, they were working 
in ground already fairly moral when they 
boarded the Fuller. My observation has been 
that the moral index, if I may coin a term, 
is inversely proportional to the amount of work. 
Hard workers, physical and mental, are as a rule 
fairly moral. 

On the ship Fuller was gathered at that time 
as decent a lot of men as ever sailed the seas. 
I have listened to more obscenity in a short space 
of time among men who held themselves edu- 
cated than fouled our ears during the whole voy- 
age about which I am writing. For one thing, 
we always had something interesting to talk 
about, and our few leisure hours were too pre- 
cious to throw away. 

The head scouts of the army were no doubt at- 
tracted by the rather cheerful noises coming from 
our band, an organization making use of all the 
typical sailor instruments, the accordion, several 
mouth organs, a jew's-harp, and a drum made 
by Jimmy Marshall out of a small paint keg 
with canvas stretched on both ends. The mis- 
sioners from the good ship Morning Star were 
very much interested, no doubt scenting talent 
for their concerts, and the party came aboard 



HONOLULU OF THE OLD DAYS 205 

on what might be called a cutting out expedi- 
tion. 

"Yes, we were getting lots to eat." "No, the 
ship was not particularly hard. The captain was 
all right." "Yes, the mate did swear a lot; in 
fact he was a bad man, but we had seen worse." 
"Yes, the life of a sailor is a hard one. We all 
liked Honolulu. Etc. Etc." Old Smith had 
the party in tow, and acted as spokesman while 
the parley was going on. Jimmy in the mean- 
time buzzed around, all eagerness to get in his 
fine work at panning the ship, the grub, and 
everything else. 

One of the visitors noticed this. He was a tall 
thin man wearing the fatigue uniform of nothing 
less than a Major, and was evidently a student 
of the genus sailor, that is, a student of the sailor 
man going through his paces ashore; a down 
trodden unfortunate, sleeping in a bunk innocent 
of woven wire springs, without clean linen sheets, 
and having to wash himself in a common deck 
bucket, all of which of course is true enough. 
The tall man was drawn aside by Jimmy, his 
grizzled monkey face working like a nutcracker. 
Jimmy talked to such good purpose that the tall 
army officer handed him a card and asked him to 
call when ashore. Our band then struck up, and 



206 UNDER SAIL 

nobody could help but notice that Jimmy JMar* 
shall was a most proficient drummer. 

The upshot of this was that a week later Jim- 
my took to his bunk sick. "Contusion of the 
liver," he called it. "Too much work an' the 
rotten grub 'as got me at last." There was 
much groaning in his bunk, and when Captain 
Nichols looked him over he shook his head. 

The following day several army authorities 
came aboard to visit Jimmy, a mighty fine look- 
ing captain among them, for we all admired her. 
Two days after this Jimmy rose from his bunk 
with great effort and went aft while the captain 
paid him off. Kanakas came aboard for his dun- 
nage, and Jimmy Marshall joined the Salvation 
Army. We saw him on the corner of Fort and 
Hotel Streets soon afterward beating a brand- 
new drum and utterly ignoring us. How the 
army did it remained a mystery until a young 
man from Brewer's office let fall the hint that 
army influence was exerted through the agents. 
Whatever it was, it worked, and for many a day 
we missed Jimmy. His "beef" on a rope was neg- 
ligible, but he was clever at every sailor art and 
his singing was in a class by itself. 

Scouse summed up the fo'c'sle opinion when 
he said, "Dot's a smart feller, dot Chimmy." 



HONOLULU OF THE OLD DAYS 207 

While the efforts of the Salvation Army were 
directed with vigor and enjoyed the support of 
the powers that were in the city, the devil was 
also well represented in the thriving little nest 
of humanity, way out there in the middle of the 
Pacific. This was before the time of the great 
fire that swept away the Japanese quarter, and 
before the yoshiwara had been established. Sa- 
loons had a pleasant ingenuous fashion of ad- 
vertising in the daily papers. Such items as, 
"Drink at the Criterion Saloon," "Visit the 
Louvre Saloon, for your rickeys," were displayed 
in bold type. Intoxicated men reeled along the 
streets at night in the region bordering the water- 
front, and assaults of various kinds were not in- 
frequent. All nations were represented in the 
motley crew who formed the floating cosmopoli- 
tan conglomeration drifting about the port. The 
new republic being the eddy in the middle of the 
transpacific lanes where human flotsam gravi- 
tated, like Hong Kong and Port Said, it had 
become a nodal point of adventure. 

Of course Honolulu itself rose serene and 
beautiful above this mess of wreckage that 
washed up on her beach. Beautiful homes were 
there, on the long avenues lined by royal palms, 
set in fine grounds, bordered by hibiscus hedges 



208 UNDER SAIL 

alive with flaming red. The date pahn and the 
fan pahn all added to the natural beauty sur- 
rounding her public buildings and her dwellings. 
The solid worth of the place far outweighed the 
ribald doings of the beach combers, not all of 
them, let it be said, in dungaree. Well-dressed ad- 
venturers were even more numerous, and no 
doubt far more dangerous, than the unattached 
sailors of the port. 

The life in the Chinese and Japanese quar- 
ters, with their hundreds of small shops supply- 
ing the modest needs of their countrymen, was 
most interesting to us. In fact we were com- 
pelled to do most of our trading with these mer- 
chants, as two dollars per week was of little ac- 
count in attempting to go shopping on Fort 
Street in the American or English stores. As 
for having a regular blowout, with drinks of 
civilization, at two bits per glass, it was simply 
not to be thought of. Watermelons, bananas, 
pineapples, soda pop, and ginger ale were our 
refreshments after an evening spent at the con- 
cert in Emma Square, or Thomas Square, and 
very often I went to a small Chinese coffee house 
on Beretania Street for a cup of Kona coffee 
and a plate of sinkers. If a steamer had arrived 
it was the custom to have a concert at the Royal 



HONOLULU OF THE OLD DAYS 209 

Hawaiian Hotel, the band, by the way, being a 
particularly fine one under direction of Professor 
Henry Berger, and supported by the Govern- 
ment. King Kalakaua during his famous tour 
of the world conceived the idea of having such 
an organization in Honolulu. It was composed 
of native Hawaiians, all excellent musicians, and 
he secured Professor Berger to lead it. The fre- 
quent concerts inaugurated by King Kalakaua 
have been continued ever since. Bad as the old 
king may have been, the band will always remain 
a large item to his credit. Without it, Honolulu 
would be a bad place in which to live; many a 
poor devil has enjoyed the treat of the best mu- 
sic under conditions calculated to conserve its in» 
fluence, who would otherwise have spent his even- 
ing in some hideous dive. 

The concerts in the grounds of the Royal Ho- 
tel were a sort of dual function so far as I was 
concerned. When attending them in the com- 
pany of Mr. Mclnerny I walked boldly into the 
lobby of the hotel and lolled about on the ve- 
randah like a gentleman. When out with 
Hitchen, Frenchy, Axel, or Tommy, and on the 
single occasion when we induced Old Smith to 
forsake the waterfront, I stopped on the lowly 
outskirts of the crowd among the natives, and the 



210 UNDER SAIL 

groups of Chinamen, Portuguese, and Japs. We 
enjoyed the music and had as good a time as the 
folks on the verandah; in fact we were more 
comfortable, for we dressed in cool clean dun- 
garee with our cotton shirts unstarched and open 
at the throat. Pipes were always in order, lavish 
conversation was indulged in, and we got to be 
accepted on an equal footing by many of the na- 
tives. Nigger, the hatch man, a sort of top boss 
among these people, was one of the best of Ka- 
nakas, which is saying much ; a white man under 
his skin, and a gentleman every inch of him. He 
introduced us to as exclusive a society as there 
is in the islands, and we always swore by him 
in spite of the way he treated us the first few 
days of our stay in port, but then, as he ex- 
plained, it was the Republicans he was after, and 
of course us white fellows could look out for 
ourselves. 

On Sundays, when I was not out driving with 
Mr. Mclnerny, Frenchy and Axel and myself 
would wander about the city looking at the 
strange sights. Tommy got to be one of the 
sightseers later on, and in our different excur- 
sions on foot we covered the place pretty well. 
The Palace (from the outside), the statue of 
Kamehameha I, the Museum, and the cottage in 



HONOLULU OF THE OLD DAYS 211 

which Stevenson lived at Waikiki, were some of 
the points of interest visited. We also made a 
long hike out to the Pali. All of this is unin- 
teresting but simply spread upon the record to 
show that the sailor man of the old deepwater 
days, of which I write, was liable at times to en- 
joy many of the milder forms of dissipation now 
almost exclusively indulged in by Cook tourists 
and the winners of voting contests sent abroad 
by enterprising newspapers. 



CHAPTER XVII 

A DINNER ASHORE 

WITH all due respect to Chow, and he 
moved in the best silk-shh'ted circles of 
oriental society, we could never say that his reg- 
ular bill of fare on board the Fuller was exactly 
epicurean. He was bound to remember that sail- 
ors were the ultimate destination of his efforts 
and he guided himself accordingly. 

When the ship was at the end of her discharg- 
ing, and my trials with the mate had come to a 
close, so far as the bilge was concerned at least, 
Frenchy suggested that we have a dinner ashore. 
I felt like celebrating and readily agreed. At 
first we thought of having this feast alone, but 
after due deliberation, and consideration of all 
of the questions involved, we decided to invite a 
third shipmate. Frenchy figured this out on the 
basis of the size of the bird that he held to be 
the necessary central feature of the proposed 
banquet. The kind of a bird Frenchy had in 
mind was a three-man bird — indeed many a fam- 

212 



A DINNER ASHORE 213 

ily of twice that number would have considered 
it sufficient. Then again, in his way the French- 
man was quite a philosopher, and realized that 
in a three-cornered celebration the whole affair 
would take on a better air. Three may be a 
crowd under certain circumstances, but where 
shipmates get together, three of them generally 
manage to have a better time than when they 
travel in pairs. 

Now as to the third man. I suspected that 
Frenchy had already selected him when we went 
out on the fo'c'sle head to talk the matter over, 
a few nights before the event was to come off. 
He urged me to suggest candidates. I did, pos- 
sibly more on their merits as sailors than any- 
thing else, forgetting that the man who knows 
best how to stow a fore t'gan'sl may not be the 
handiest shipmate with a knife and fork. Hitchen 
or Axel were named by me. 

"No, Felix, that Hitchen always laughs at 
me when I tell about the way we cook things in 
France. Axel is all right but he eats stock fish. 
Let us ask Tommy. Tommy knows a good din- 
ner when he smells it. Let's ask him." 

Thereupon Tommy was asked, and of course 
accepted. We were to pool our week's allowance, 
two dollars apiece, and by the ready way in which 



214 UNDER SAIL 

Tommy and Frenchy got together on the propo- 
sition I knew that they had already thrashed out 
all the details. Frenchy merely started the ball 
rolling my way by true fo'c'sle diplomacy, the 
boys imagining perhaps that I would want some- 
one besides Tommy as the third man, for some- 
how or other Tommy and I had never chummed 
to any extent since our arrival in Honolulu. 

The matter of Tommy disposed of, Frenchy 
took the arrangements in hand, going ashore with 
Tommy Saturday night to perfect the details, 
for these archconspirators had already selected 
the place at which we were to dine. It transpired 
that Nigger, who was a warm friend of mine 
host, had highly recommended the place, so I 
agreed to put myself in the hands of my friends 
after the time-honored custom of more exalted 
candidates, turning over to them the two silver 
dollars received from Captain Nichols, and that 
night I followed my routine of many other even- 
ings of enforced economy, and repaired to the 
reading room of the Y. M. C. A. 

When I came aboard Frenchy and Tommy 
were there to meet me. They had seen the pro- 
prietor of a little restaurant on Fort Street a 
few doors north of Hotel. A table had been re- 
served for Sunday, at one o'clock, and the final 



A DINNER ASHORE 215 

specifications of that dinner minutely laid down. 
Frenchy was enthusiastic. I would now see what 
a real dinner was like ; I was to tell him frankly 
if it was not better than the dinners I had had 
ashore with my friends. The proprietor, a Por- 
tuguese, was a man of taste ready to welcome us 
as friends of Nigger; his wife was to cook the 
dinner herself. Clean white tablecloth, napkins, 
and everything right, had been ordered by 
Frenchy. 

We did not tell the rest of the crowd forward 
of our plans, for like enough they would only 
ridicule the idea. As a matter of fact it did seem 
like an extravagance, but we were having so 
much fun out of it before we ever came to the 
actual disposition of the dinner, that it was well 
worth the sacrifice entailed. "A man likes to 
have things good once in a while," was the jus- 
tification of Frenchy. 

Sunday morning, after the washdown, which 
was always particularly thorough on that day, 
lasting an hour or so longer than usual, we par- 
took of a very light breakfast. We then shaved 
carefully, that is. Tommy and I did, and got out 
our best clothes, brushing them with great care. 

"Are you going riding to-day?" asked Martin 
with a grin. 



216 UNDER SAIL 

*'No, Mart, I expect to dine at the Palace with 
President Dole." 

''Is Tommy and Frenchy going with you?" 

"You guessed it. By special invitation, Mart, 
Tommy and Frenchy have been asked up to dine 
and to advise the President as to the cut of his 
whiskers. Some say he should shave like Tommy, 
on account of the heat, others contend he should 
let them grow like Frenchy, on account of the 
mosquitoes ; so you see he is asking us up to din- 
ner in order to settle the matter," at which both 
Tommy and Frenchy expanded perceptibly, and 
Mart, muttering "Rats," went out on deck to 
escape the jibes of the crowd. It was certain 
that something unusual was up, but after the 
manner of a free fo'c'sle, the men kept their own 
counsel, only such goats as the wood-turner Mar- 
tin having the crust to edge in. 

Frenchy broke out his best — a blue suit, very 
square cut in the shoulders, double breasted, and 
of substantial cloth, rather heavy, but undoubted- 
ly good. He told me proudly that it had been 
made to order in Dunkirk two years before when 
he was home on a visit. He also polished the leath- 
er visor on his blue cloth cap, a petty officer's cap, 
a relic of the old days in the navy. Of course 
Frenchy had on a stiff white shirt, one with a 



A DINNER ASHORE 217 

very small bosom, which made it necessary for 
him to keep his coat buttoned, for he decided not 
to wear a vest. This shirt was a work of art, 
hand made by sister Madeleine, and having col- 
lar and cuffs attached. In place of a tie he wore 
a loosely knotted scarf of black silk. 

Tommy had a gray sack suit, not new, but well 
brushed and neat. The edges of the vest, which 
he insisted on wearing, were lined with black 
braid, and he had worked black silk triangles at 
the corners of the pocket slits. Tommy wore a 
very shiny boiled shirt, a low wing collar, a fancy 
butterfly tie of the very latest South Street pat- 
tern, held in place by an elastic band, and a gray 
felt hat. 

I donned my visiting clothes, and the three 
of us turned out in the height of perfection, 
scrubbed, polished, and rubbed down to the last 
turn; Beau Brummel, had he ever shipped deep 
water, would have had nothing on us. 

"Well, I hope you has a good time," called 
out Brenden as we headed aft for the gangway, 
just as the smelly kids from the galley were com- 
ing forward, in the hands of Fred and Tony, 
masses of greasy potroast unappetizing and un- 
couth. 

The mate sighted us as we went over the gang- 



218 UNDER SAIL 

way. He stood in the shadow under the after 
awning giving us a thorough looking over. 

"Three gentlemen of Verona!" he cried after 
us in derision, for let it be known Mr. Zerk was 
something of a scholar in his way and not with- 
out a sense of inaccurate but racy humor. 

Glad to be clear of the ship, we headed up 
Nuuanu Street to King, put our helms hard to 
port and ran east under the shadow of the sub- 
stantial concrete stores and offices, with their 
heavy iron shutters closed for the Sabbath day. 
From King Street we turned northerly into Fort 
Street and, with yards squared, and three abreast, 
we bore up to the haven in which we were to 
dine, as well pleased a trio of low degree mari- 
ners as ever sailed. 

The proprietor, swarthy, stout, and smiling, 
and wearing a white apron, greeted us at the 
door; while his wife peeked from behind a cur- 
tain in the rear, as he ushered us to a nice round 
table next to a window overlooking a cool shady 
garden. We were the only diners in this cozy 
room, the private parlor of mine host. The 
trades were blowing rather strong that day and 
a pleasant breeze came in through the open win- 
dow. The lace curtains still linger in my mem- 



A DINNER ASHORE 219 

ory, with other details of the feast, and I had to 
tuck them back, for they threatened the soup. 

When I say that a small vase of flowers deco- 
rated the white linen, or perhaps it was only cot- 
ton, but at any rate fresh and clean, the fine hand 
of Frenchy will be recognized, for, let us say so 
again, and if necessary, again and again, he had 
planned the dinner from first to last in every de- 
tail. 

The soup, for of course we started with soup 
and not with any of the exotic indigestible frip- 
pery often attempted by ambitious but ill-in- 
formed caterers, was cold consomme! "Hey, 
wot's this?" demanded Tommy, "are we late?" 
"No, Tommy, you eat this cold. Try it." "Say, 
that's all to the all right!" 

Well, it certainly was "all to the all right," and 
real cold, in fact chilly would be the proper word. 
The host fluttered about; he was doing things 
right, and to entertain guests such as we, who 
knew and demanded that every detail be carried 
out; for such appreciative guests were rare in- 
deed in the vicinity of Fort Street, not far from 
Hotel, 

The fish course was a dainty morsel of some 
native species, flaky and white. It would take 



220 UNDER SAIL 

a connoisseur, and few of them shipped at sea 
in those days, to describe that meal. 

The roast was a fat fowl, but not too fat, a 
plump bird of the genus chicken. 

When this rare bird appeared on the table 
Frenchy insisted upon congratulating the cook, 
the proprietor's wife, who blushed with pleasure 
at the gracious compliments showered upon her, 
and the bird, with equal facility. Of course 
Frenchy carved. He carved exactly as he had 
often carved before in the long hungry night 
watches off the coast of North America when 
we first chummed together. Only now he was 
dismembering a real plump drumstick done to 
a golden brown, and not one of the imaginary 
mouth-watering tantalizers of the cold high seas. 
Dressing was there too, and mighty good, and a 
big dish of mealy mashed potatoes, white and 
satisfying. 

"Have some gravy," said Tommy, passing 
around the gravy boat, a vessel he was well able 
to command. 

We wound up with a salad of lettuce, and 
Frenchy mixed the dressing at the table. It 
will not stretch the imagination of the reader to 
believe that by this time our shipmate was in a 
highly satisfactory mood. Tommy and I were 



A DINNER ASHORE 221 

having the time of our lives, and as far as dinners 
go I have never enjoyed a better. Since then 
it has been my fortune to kick heels beneath the 
same table with a prince of the royal blood, to 
have broken bread with schoolmen and with men 
of the old world who feel themselves of noble 
strain; I have speared spuds with the fishermen 
of the north and have shared my bacon and corn 
pone with the niggers in the swamps of Florida ; 
I have dined in state and have taken my chances 
in a college commons, but never can I remember 
a better or a merrier meal. 

Some guava tart and cream cheese, the latter 
served on small green leaves, and large generous 
plebeian cups of clear Kona coiFee, completed 
the dinner. 

Our host had a surprise for us. He opened, 
and passed around, a box of good cigars, urging 
us to help ourselves to extra ones, which we did. 
He then took off his apron and, drawing a chair 
up to the table, joined our well satisfied company. 
We talked of all things under the heavens and 
upon the land and waters. More coffee was 
called for at intervals, and when our host learned 
that I had been in Horta, his native town in the 
Azores, a new bond of interest was established. 

Finally, with regret, the time came to depart. 



222 UNDER SAIL 

A fine touch worthy of that finished sailor, Vic- 
tor Mathes of Dunkirk, God rest his soul and 
grant him all prosperity, was the fact that the 
meal had been paid for in advance and we left 
our host without the sordid jingling of change 
or offering of a pauperizing tip, this worthy 
bowing us to the door, three contented sailors, 
with extended belts, and empty pockets, and 
nothing but a ship to call our home. 



CHAPTER XVIII 

BRITISH NEIGHBORS 

THE memory of our famous dinner ashore, 
a feast that was enjoyed over and over 
again in reminiscences during the succeeding 
months of the voyage, brings to mind, by very 
contrast, the sad picture of a body of men who 
were constantly hungry. These unfortunates 
were the crew of the iron ship British Monarch. 
We became very friendly with the crowd on the 
Britisher during our stay in port, finding them 
there when we came and leaving them behind 
when we put to sea. These poor devils talked 
of food, thought of food, and dreamt of food; 
they did everything but eat it in anything like 
satisfying quantities. 

They were a typical English ship's company 
in this case, carrying a larger number of Britons 
than was generally the rule. The Dutchman, that 
is anything hailing from the north of Europe, 
of course predominated. 

"Bli me if she ain't the 'ungriest bloody tawnk 

223 



224 UNDER SAIL 

hout o' Lunnon. Arsh thy calls hit. Sye, hif 
arsh hever tysted like that, so 'elp me. And they 
arsts me to heat me fill, the rotters! Blarst 'em! 
The bloody rotters!" 

The speaker, a native of parts near London, 
a vivacious and interesting lad named Parker 
Tweedy, treated us to this and much more in the 
same vein. Tweedy elected himself a "Hextra 
'and" at our mess and helped clean up the kids 
on many an occasion. In fact many a pocket 
full of tack and many a half pan of dry hash 
went from the Fuller to the British Monarch. 

Two very youthful apprentice boys, fair 
haired and rosy faced, with china-blue eyes, were 
among her complement. These children, they 
were nothing more, gloried in the most awful 
command of profanity. The boys were to be 
seen wandering about ashore of an evening, their 
faded blue uniform caps proclaiming them the 
sons of doting parents who were willing to pay 
a bonus of fifty pounds in order that their boys 
might learn the rudiments of seamanship and 
navigation on the clipper ship British Monarch, 
late of the China and Australia trade. "Uniform 
is worn — ^meaning the caps — and the young gen- 
tlemen are berthed in separate quarters in the 
cuddy house." So read the tale that snared them. 



BRITISH NEIGHBORS 225 

However, nothing except hunger ever seemed to 
happen to these lads, and as they flattened their 
noses against the confectioner's windows ashore, 
they were unconsciously absorbing lessons that 
might be of value to them in after life. 

Like most English ships of this class, the 
British Monarch was a disgrace to the sea and 
in no way representative of the best traditions 
of the English service. The system in vogue in 
ships of her kind may be epitomized as one of 
least work and less food. Day after day the 
crew would sling a scaffold plank over her side 
and chip her rusty plates in a languid, melan- 
choly way, interspersing their half-hearted labors 
by lengthy discussions. Small patches of the 
chipped surface would be coated with red lead 
and the British Monarch looked like a tattered 
sea rover wearing a very much torn coat through 
which patches of red undershirt were visible. 

Her gear aloft was most slovenly, Irish pend- 
ants hanging from every yard, and her spars tak- 
ing any direction in which they happened to be 
at the time the braces were belayed. Her skipper, 
a youngish man and very unassuming, would 
scull about the harbor in a small jolly boat visit- 
ing his friends. Why the crew stayed by the ship 
was a mystery, with good billets going begging 



226 UNDER SAIL 

for sailor men to hold them; however, when we 
learned that they had a year's payday on the 
books and were looking forward to some happy 
distant time when that rusty ark would drop her 
anchor in the Thames or Mersey, the reason for 
their staying by was plain. 

Hitchen and I went on board of her after we 
had been in port for several weeks and I was sur- 
prised to have him take me aft into the cabin. 
All he would say was that he had met Mr. Gore, 
the mate, back in England ; they were old friends, 
"so what's the difference if I am before the mast 
so long as it's in another ship?" which was true 
enough. The cabin of the ship was very elabo- 
rately appointed, though not well taken care of. 
The British Monarch had been in the East India 
trade at one time and was fitted to carry a lim- 
ited number of cabin passengers. 

Mr. Gore, the mate, was a taciturn man of 
about forty, much given to study and reflection, 
for which he had ample opportunity, as the care 
and working of the ship never seemed to bother 
him. The second mate, Mr. Hauton, a lad of 
less than twenty, was most hospitable. He was 
a graduate of an English schoolship, and as I 
was from the St. Mary's, we had a lot to talk 
about, comparing notes on all matters relating 



BRITISH NEIGHBORS 227 

to the profession of the sea. He was a "Wrinkles" 
fan and exhibited a thumbed copy of the first 
edition. As I had a copy of the latest, much 
enlarged, Hauton made me promise to loan it to 
him. 

One thing that was notable was the fact that 
they had the run of things aft, going into the 
captain's room for books, and freely inviting 
their friends on board to partake of such hos- 
pitality as the vessel afforded. The social equal- 
ity aft was better balanced than in the Fuller, 
and deservedly so. On the other hand, our mate 
was a far better sailor than either of these men, 
yet he was as far removed from the captain, as 
we were from the sacred shelter of the forward 
cabin. 

Hauton and I made a number of interesting ex- 
cursions about Honolulu and its vicinity. We vis- 
ited the Oahu prison, whose white walls loomed 
over the green meadows beyond the railroad 
wharf. Another trip took us out to the great 
Eiwa Plantation. Hauton was keen on visiting 
the coast traders as they came in from Califor- 
nia, and having more or less of a fixture during 
the long stay in port of the British Monarch, he 
was able to make many friends. His reason for 
staying by the ship was the fact that the time in 



228 UNDER SAIL 

port, he being signed on as a regular officer, was 
telling toward his sea sendee. On their return, 
if they ever did return, he would go before the 
examiners of the Board of Trade as a candidate 
for the First JNIate's Certificate of Competency. 

They do this sort of thing much better in Eng- 
land, and in fact in all of the European coun- 
tries, than we do. There an ambitious lad of 
seventeen, who has had his service and possesses 
the necessary knowledge of navigation, can pass 
for second mate. In the United States the young 
man must be twenty-one, an age at which they 
commanded ships in the good old days, before 
the Local Inspectors of Steam Vessels can exam- 
ine him for a second mate's license.* This fool- 
ish rule kept me roughing at sea, in subordinate 
billets, for three years before I could qualify and 
go to sea as an officer, that is, three years more 
than were necessary, as I was qualified by ser- 
vice and knowledge at the age of eighteen. 

Another thing, and here is as good a place to 
say it as any, the whole system of examining mer- 
chant officers is wrong. The U. S. Local In- 
spectors of Steam Vessels are earnest, capable 
officers, but must work with the laws and regu- 

* Changed in 1916 to admit men of 19 years, having the required 
sea experience, to examination for third or second mate. 



BRITISH NEIGHBORS 229 

lations as they find them. The examinations are 
even less rigid now * than formerly, owing to the 
great need for officers to man our ships. 

One of the worst features of the thing is the 
fact that they give a man a ''license/^ I have no 
desire to quarrel about mere words, but why not 
be consistent? As we "license" our merchant 
marine officers, let us do the whole thing in the 
same hayseed fashion and give our naval officers 
"permits" instead of "commissions," or perhaps 
include them in the scheme of licenses. An old 
sailor once told me that he would rather have a 
liquor license than a license to sail the oceans 
as master. Dog licenses, peddler's licenses, and 
what not, all confused in the average mind with 
merchant officer's licenses are the result of ig- 
norance founded on a political system, that, orig- 
inating ashore, has bungled the laws governing 
our sea service since the fatal time when it was 
taken under the present system of control. 

To end this "backwash of wrath" let us give 
our merchant officers "A Certificate of Compe- 
tency" or any old thing but a "license." As a 
matter of fact the officer's license looks very 
much like the license displayed in saloon win- 

* 1918. 



230 UNDER SAIL 

dows, permitting them to do business by virtue 
of their payment of internal revenue taxes. 

The yawl of the Britisher was an able, fine 
modeled boat, sported a leg-o'-mutton rig and 
frequently, of a moonlight evening, the breeze 
being fair, Hitchen and I would go out sailing 
with the mates of the British Monarch. On one 
occasion Hauton and I took the yawl out 
through the harbor entrance and beat our way as 
far east as Waikiki Beach, expecting to sail back 
before it with a fair breeze. It fell calm and we 
were compelled to beach her and leave the boat 
in charge of a native, as she was too big an order 
for us to row back alone, especially as we car- 
ried only one oar. This taught us a lesson, for 
we had to walk back, not having a cent in our 
pockets. The next night we went out by car 
with the two apprentice boys and a number of 
our Hawaiian friends, who brought their uku- 
leles. The sail back into the harbor was most 
enjoyable. These people have excellent voices, 
as a rule, and sing with a haunting plaintive 
strain of sadness that can never be forgotten. 

In the undertow of human flotsam that cir- 
culated about the wharves and waterfront sa- 
loons, there was considerable talk about the 
smuggling of opium. It seemed a profitable 



BRITISH NEIGHBORS 231 

business to engage in, judging by the talk we 
heard. A leak in the customs, or some loophole 
in the restrictions on the trade, allowed a lot of 
the drug to get into Honolulu. Often, as we 
sailed about the harbor in the evening, we would 
notice the small schooners coming in and out, 
many of these being consigned to Chinese and 
Japanese merchants. The cleverest of the smug- 
glers would come into the port with their ship- 
ment of opium slung under the keel of the vessel. 
Bearings would be taken at some point, perhaps 
some time before letting go the anchor, and the 
contraband tripped to the bottom. All that was 
necessary then was to deliver the bearings; the 
consignee could go out and pick up his freight 
in a fishing net when most convenient. 

Going to sea breeds a garrulous curiosity 
among sailors. The shipping in the harbor was 
a constant source of discussion aboard the Fuller. 
Of fine trim sailing craft, Honolulu held more 
than her share in those days. Such craft as the 
barkentine Irmgard, the bark Nuuanu, and the 
Foohing Suey were a delight to the eye. The 
bark Rhoderich Dhu was also one of them, and 
eight years later I saw her come slambanging 
into the broad harbor of Hilo, all sail set and 
a crowd of gaily dressed women on her poop. 



232 UNDER SAIL 

She was still popular as a passenger carrier, 
and came to anchor with the precision of a man- 
o'-war. 

The island steamer, a typical product of Ha- 
waii, is a cross between a steam schooner, only 
shorter, and a New England boarding house and 
factory combination. A black tin smokestack 
rises above the front porch, two stump masts are 
fitted with leg-of-mutton sails to steady her, and 
a large crew of Kanakas complete the maritime 
mess. 



CHAPTER XIX 

THE MATE KEEPS US BUSY 

NEWS that war with Spain had been de- 
clared reached us on April 27th, coming by 
the U. S. Mariposa from Sydney. On the same 
day we discharged the last piece of cargo in the 
hold of the Fuller and hauled into the stream to 
get ready for our return loading of sugar. This 
ended our shore liberty for a few nights, but it 
really came as a relief to us. Three busy weeks 
along shore, weeks that seemed like months when 
we thought of all that had happened, sickened 
us of the dust and smell, the latter emanating 
largely from the Chinese houses with their pe- 
culiar odor of rancid sweetened grease. The 
chatter of the Kanakas wearied us and the mos- 
quito pest along shore was enough to discour- 
age even the most pronounced optimist. We were 
glad, indeed, for a few days of comparative quiet 
while in the stream; at least it was three days 
of quiet that we looked forward to. 

Before hauling away from the wharf we took 

233 



234 UNDER SAIL 

aboard a lot of rough pine and spruce lumber, 
material to be used in lining the ship. Shore 
carpenters came out, men thoroughly versed in 
the work, and in an incredible time had fitted a 
complete inner skin throughout the hold. This 
was kept at least a foot away from the sides of 
the vessel and some two feet above the bilges, 
and the ceiling next the keelson, the ceiling being 
at the bottom and not at the top of the hold, as 
landsmen might imagine. The boarding of this 
inner skin was cleverly laid, clinker fashion like 
the clapboards on a house, so that any sweat 
or leak water in the hold would be shed and run 
down clear to the bilges without wetting the pre- 
cious cargo. 

A cargo of sugar such as was to be carried by 
the Fuller was worth at that time in the neighbor- 
hood of a quarter of a million, and the greatest 
precautions were taken to safeguard it. In ad- 
dition to guarding against wet, all places where 
the sugar bags might, by any chance, come in 
contact with iron, as the bolt heads in the heavy 
knees that jutted through the inner lining, were 
wrapped with extra thicknesses of gunny sack. 
When this job was completed the lower hold 
looked like the inside of a gigantic melon, nicely 
hollowed out. There was a clean sweep from the 



THE MATE KEEPS US BUSY 235 

fore peak to the lazarette, only interrupted by 
the mainmast and the upright water tank, a sim- 
ple hold such as was considered safe and proper 
in the days of Columbus and of Drake. 

The 'tween decks of the Fuller was rather 




WATCHING THE SHOEE WHEN IN THE STREAM 

fancy. Her voyage previous to the one we were 
on had taken her to China and while in Shanghai 
the 'tween decks was scraped bright. The under 
side of the spar deck, the lining, knees, and 
waterways, were all in natural wood and coated 
with a varnish made of shellac and oil. The heads 
of bolts, and all iron work, had been painted with 



236 UNDER SAIL 

aluminum paint and then varnished. When we 
first noted this it brought forth some caustic com- 
ment. 

"They do the cargo a damn sight better than 
they do us," remarked Australia. And this was 
right and proper. The cargo pays freight and 
should be considered, whereas we were a part of 
the expense, to be cut down as low as possible 
both in numbers and wages. 

Captain Nichols, too, was glad to get away 
from the wharf and all the annoyances incident 
to discharging. The dust and unavoidable dirt 
tracked aboard ship by the people from shore 
were a constant vexation to his soul. I have often 
seen the skipper bob up from the companion and 
chase some unsuspecting visitor ashore without 
ceremony; some poor deluded mortal without a 
proper reverence for the sacred character of 
those spotless after decks that we had holy- 
stoned and scrubbed so carefully every day of 
the voyage. 

When we got in the stream a comfortable 
deck chair was brought out for the captain and 
placed on top of the cabin and several times we 
saw him actually recline at his ease in this con- 
cession to luxury. The skipper also wore won- 
derful white clothing with double blue stripes; 



THE MATE KEEPS US BUSY 237 

this was really silk, but looked for all the world 
like the standard pattern for bedticking. It 
must have been cool, and after all that is why- 
he wore them. Coming out to the ship a few 
days after we had hauled out, the captain had 
his boatman row him around the vessel while he 
eyed her carefully. Evidently everything was 
right aloft, yards square and all gear snug, for 
of course the mate had seen to that, but he was 
not pleased with the appearance of the hull. The 
following morning we got busy and all that day 
half of us were over the side scrubbing her. We 
took long brooms and cleaned off the high wall 
of copper, for being light she showed some six 
feet of it, and when we got through, the Fuller 
looked something like her old self. 

During all of our time in Honolulu the mate 
remained very much to himself. I only remem- 
ber seeing him go ashore a few times and none 
of us ever met him when off the ship. He led 
a lonesome life, and after the hard day of driv- 
ing us with all duties devolving on him alone, I 
have no doubt he was pretty well done. Thinking 
it over, I have since come to the conclusion that 
the terrible Mr. Zerk, the bully and the slave- 
driver, with a curse always ready on his lips, and 
a heavy fist prepared to enforce his mandates, 



238 UNDER SAIL 

was a sort of Mr. Hyde to a very domestic Zerk 
saving his payday at the rate of a paltry sixty 
dollars a month against the time of his return 
home to the wife and kids. His supply of home- 
made jams and preserved pickles, so sparingly 
given me on the passage out, confirms this con- 
clusion. True, I hated him cordialty during 
those trying days in Honolulu, but then I was 
very much of an ass, and no doubt deserved all 
that was given me. When we went into the 
stream, things got better; the mate slackened 
up to the extent of allowing me to tally aboard 
the lumber for the lining. 

About this time talk in the fo'c'sle was much 
concerned with speculation as to who would be 
our second mate. Martin said he had overheard 
the mate tell someone from the shore that a man 
was coming out from Frisco to take the billet. 

"Not on yer Hfe," said Australia; "they will 
pick something easy from forward. This mate 
likes to run things hisself and all he wants is 
some boy to stay awake nights to call the captain 
if a squall blows up. They will pick one of 
us, but whoever he is, he will be a fool." 

In fact not long afterward judicious sound- 
ings were taken forward by that left-handed 
diplomat, the gloomy Chips. Whoever sent him 



THE MATE KEEPS US BUSY 239 

on his fruitless errand must have received an en- 
lightening message. Chips cornered one man 
after another and in a deliberate fashion got his 
ideas as to who was willing to go aft. We were 
all of one opinion as to who was most fitted for 
the billet; Old Smith of course was the man. 
Although he was kno^vn as Old Smith, it was 
more a matter of respect, his age being only 
about forty or forty-five. He had sailed before 
the mast since boyhood, most of this time deep- 
water, back and forth around the Horn, sailing 
as second mate many times but always going 
back to the fo'c'sle as his choice. 

Smith never drank to excess while in Hono- 
lulu, was a clean-cut, able seaman, a type as 
scarce in those days and unlaiown now. 

Some hitch ashore occurred in regard to our 
cargo, for we lay in the stream three days after 
we were ready to load. In the interval the mate 
hit upon a brilliant idea. Why he thought of 
this piece of hazing, for such it was, is merely a 
guess on my part, but the growing cheerfulness 
forward must have annoyed him. The band was 
particularly active after we left the wharf, the 
concerts on the fo'c'sle head, of an evening, last- 
ing well into the night. 

The day after the hold was finished we were 



240 UNDER SAIL 

horsed about unmercifully at the washdown. 
Fred, Martin and I had put large batches of 
clothing to soak the night before, expecting to 
find time during the day for scrubbing, as we 
looked forward to a rather easy time. 

"Hey! Put them swabs up. Never mind 
that. Smith; break out a couple of barrels of 
sand. Leave the water spar," this last to Frenchy 
and Charlie Horse, who were about to unrig it; 
for Charlie Horse always helped at the morning 
washdown after his night of watching, "to 
give him an appetite for breakfast," as the mate 
said. 

"Wot in hell is the racket?" asked Australia 
in alarm. "So help me — is that busher going to 
start something new?" 

"Dot's it. Somethings new again. Maybe the 
'bear' in port, or something," chimed in Scouse. 

"Get your breakfast!" shouted the mate as 
soon as the sand was on deck, and we went for- 
ward with the whole ship in a mess — gear on the 
pins, deck wet, and two barrels of mysterious 
sand at the main hatch. 

"By , he's got me," confessed Hitchen; 

"whatever the bloody bitch has up his sleeve is 
a new one." 

"Joe was wise ; that's what he was, wise. And 



THE MATE KEEPS US BUSY 241 

say, that little hipercrite Jimmy, was he wise? 
Well, ast me, will you, after tonight? I'll bet 
something is doing, and something very fine. 
We been having our fling too much. The hell 
with these American working wagons 1" 

"Aw, shut up, Brenden, will you? For Gawd's 
sake, have some feelin's for us. Look at Fred; 
he's too tired to eat." 

The reaction from our high spirits of the last 
few days was complete. We sat around dejected 
after breakfast, and it was with a feeling of re- 
lief that we heard the bull-like roar of the mate 
urging us to turn to. This summons reverber- 
ated across the harbor, and must have advertised 
us as a packet of strife. 

Things were not long in abeyance. We were 
ordered to wet down decks again and spread 
the sand on the main deck as far forward as the 
windlass. Old Smith, Frenchy, Brenden, and 
Martin were told off to lend a hand to Chips. 
The first lengths of the chain cables were stop- 
pered just abaft the wild cats, and by means of 
handy billys and chain hooks we roused up long 
bights of the rusty cables and ranged them' 
along the deck, constantly wetting down and 
sprinkling sand to protect the planks. This 
was no easy job; in fact we worked like slaves 



242 UNDER SAIL 

at the back-breaking labor, having something 
like a hundred fathoms to handle on each an- 
chor. The night after this started our band 
went out of business, for we all turned in. 

Mr. Zerk was positively cheerful during the 
second and last day of this job. When we had 
completed hauling out the chain, made of great 
links a half foot long, and strengthened by a 
heavy stud, he descended to the chain locker, 
while I went with him carrying the lantern. We 
found very little dirt in the locker, and that also 
seemed to please the mate. The whole operation, 
aside from furnishing us considerable exercise, 
did no particular good, nor for that matter harm. 
I was glad of the opportunity to see the thing 
done, an interesting piece of work from the stand- 
point of the student of seamanship. The ends of 
the cables were passed through heavy ring bolts 
on the keelson and then were carried wp and se- 
cured by a stout lashing to rings in the knight 
heads. This method of securing made it possible 
to slip the cables by casting off the ends and let- 
ting them go by the run, as the ends are always in 
sight. The necessity for slipping cables comes 
very seldom, but when it does have to be done 
the safety of the ship and all on board depends 
upon the ability to let go quickly and without a 



THE MATE KEEPS US BUSY 243 

hitch. During this work we examined the mark- 
ings on the chain. At the links next to the shack- 
les, that separate the different shots of the cable, 
turns of wire are placed on the studs so that in 
running out the cable the shackles can be exam- 
ined as they go over the wild cats, and the length 
of chain out determined. Large swivels are also 
provided for taking out the turns when a vessel 
swings completely around in a tide way. Where 
two anchors are out, and the chains become 
twisted, we have the necessity for "clearing the 
hawse," an old time honored operation per- 
formed by the voyagers in the days of Columbus 
when hawsers were used. The hawse pipes still 
retain their name though great chain cables are 
now employed. 

The labor of stowing the cables was less pain- 
ful than that of rousing them up as gravity 
worked with us. 

On the night we finished this job we received 
word that the ship was to go alongside again the 
next day, and again we were glad of the change. 
That the system on board was a good one can- 
not be denied. We were always glad that some 
disagreeable piece of work was done, and, except 
for the croakers, who were always predicting 
trouble — and were always right — we were a very 



244 UNDER SAIL 

contented lot of men. It also happened that in 
the scheme of things no part of the ship was ever 
neglected, and the owners received full value in 
the care of their vessel for the wages that were 
slowly accruing to us. 



CHAPTER XX 

THE LAND OF LANGUOE 

THE month in port had pulled us together in 
a remarkable manner. The ship's company- 
forward were as one large family gathered by- 
strange chance from the ends of the earth, and, 
because of the wonderful adaptability- of human 
nature, we were working and living our life in 
pleasant harmony. Of course it might as well be 
said that if anything otherwise had occurred, if 
constant fighting had taken place, our well 
trained masters of the cabin would have put the 
disturbances down with little delay. 

On the Fuller we mustered an imposing ar- 
ray of nationalities; besides Americans, we had 
Norwegians, a Swede, an Italian, two Germans, 
and an Englishman. The mate, an American, 
had "Blue Nose" written all over him. He was 
one of those hard men, originating in Nova 
Scotia, who have added their bit to the consum- 
mate seamanship of New England and New 
York. The Chinese cook, and Japanese boy, 

245 



246 UNDER SAIL 

and later on our Kanaka sailors, helped to make 
us as conglomerate as any melting pot. The one 
man we lacked, and it was the only place in my 
career of much work and poor pay, that I did 
not find him, was the Irishman. We missed 
Paddy; he should have been there. 

The amount of the pay day coming to us, some 
time in the distant future, was a constant source 
of computation. Figuring the time since the 
working off of the dead horse, and deducting the 
slop chest account, also the money advanced 
while in port, and while the figures were often 
disappointing, there was still the possibility of a 
tidy pay day looming far ahead. Unlike the 
poor whaleman with the prospect of nothing but 
his "Iron Dollar" and escape from slavery, we 
did have a show to collect. The captain in 
American ships is allowed to charge a profit of 
ten per cent on his slop chest account. I doubt 
if Captain Nichols did even this. He had the 
steward serve out such things as were wanted, 
and the prices were lower than the cost of simi- 
lar articles on South Street. When Peter dipped 
in too strong, getting, or rather attempting to 
get expensive things from the slops, the captain 
refused to let him have them. Peter once want- 
ed some tobacco, he was going very heavy on 



THE LAND OF LANGUOR 247 

this item as he regularly gave it awaJ^ Captain 
Nichols shut down on hiin and after that handed 
him cigars whenever he happened to see Peter. 

Scouse was one of the principal calculators of 
the pay day. He had a frugal mind and was 
planning great things with his money when he 
should once more get back to New York. With 
Joe gone, Scouse became a different man. He 
was a sobered Scouse, a deep thinking plodder 
who gave himself up to day dreams that must 
have been of vast extent. Scouse announced that 
he intended to get married. He planned to meet 
and marry some good obliging German girl, 
*'Just over; dot's the one." A girl not averse 
to a big lumbering Dutchman with a shock of 
coarse red hair, and a terrible appetite; however 
a man not afraid to work. His idea was to go 
west. "No more from dis rotten sailor's humbug 
by me. I was going to be somepody ant get re- 
spect ant lif like decent people." Also he fig- 
ured on a nest egg of a little over one hundred 
dollars. But then, families have been founded 
on less, though of course the founders were not 
destined to be welcomed home by a band of 
crimps and blandishers. 

Frenchy too had great plans. He was going 
back to Dunkirk. To be sure he even talked 



248 UNDER SAIL 

of going back to Havre, in the French Line, 
paying his steerage passage. Then he planned 
to get spliced, and his scheme was to go out in 
the fishing fleet, or else back to New Caledonia, 
where he knew the country, and start life afresh. 

Axel was going back to Sweden, to Stock- 
holm, so he said, and never more out on the briny 
billows of discontent. Fred was also a prospec- 
tive homeward bounder. Trondhjem was his 
destination, and the fishing fleets of the town the 
means for his living. Tony and Charlie Horse 
intended to join Scouse in so far as they were 
bound for the interior of the U. S. A. 

During these many discussions, the wise sailor 
men like Hitchen, Brenden, and Smith, the sea- 
soned shellbacks, full of the cruel furrows of time 
spent before the mast, and God alone knows 
what other outlandish callings that roving men 
may follow, kept their counsel and smiled. 

"Sonny, I guess I am down on the books of 
some ship that sails a few weeks after we get 
back. Another crowd, another skipper and 
mates, and another voyage." Old Smith was as 
nearly sentimental as it was possible for him to 
be, and still be Old Smith. "Yes, I like this ship, 
but how in hell are we all going to sign on again 



THE LAND OF LANGUOR 249 

when more than half the crowd is going to get 
married?" 

It was strange how thoughtful the hard days 
of hauling that chain made all of us. Besides 
this, the Honolulu climate was gradually getting 
under our hardened hides. They can say what 
they like about the Hawaiian Islands being a 
"white man's country." It is if you mean a white 
man who never has anything harder to do than 
to tell a Kanaka or a Jap to lift the burden. The 
trades do blow, and it is lucky for the inhabitants 
that they do, otherwise, the Isthmus of Panama 
would be duplicated out in the broad Pacific. In 
spite of the pleasing winds and the beautiful clear 
weather, things are a bit too balmy for contin- 
ued physical exertion. Lifting a gin rickey is 
good enough exercise, and if you lift them often 
enough, out at Sans Souci, for instance, you can 
imagine anything j^ou like about the Islands. 

Working men stay home, if you are white, let 
the coolies shoulder the physical burdens; but if 
you are wealthy and also lucky, you will very 
likely own stock in a sugar plantation. They 
were paying seventy-five per cent dividends in 
those days, and this is so even now, I believe. 
Also if one is ambitious to put pep and fire into 
things, seek a cooler clime. It is a fact that the 



250 UNDER SAIL 

white people of the Islands, who can do so, spend 
a part of their time on the coast and whenever 
possible, prospective mothers go to the coast dur- 
ing the time of their pregnancy, as the Hawaiian 
climate seems to rob them of much of the neces- 
sary vitality for the ordeal of birth. 

But the Islands do hold a magic, all pervading 
charm, they are as unlike any other islands as it 
is possible for them to be. Honolulu, with its 
beautiful villas, with its modern setting amid a 
glory of tropical verdure, springing from an age 
old fertile humus, bathed in tropic sun, cannot 
be duplicated. 

On getting alongside the railroad wharf, 
which we did by the economical and laborious 
process of warping across the harbor by use of 
a kedge anchor, we found that the greater part 
of the day had gone by, a day that started at four 
o'clock in the morning with the regular wash- 
down to begin things, when we were ordered to 
carry out the kedge and pick up our moorings. 

Time was plentiful with us in those days, for 
the eight hour schedule had never been heard 
of. Mr. Furuseth and Senator La Follette were 
not there to shield us from cruel fate, and besides, 
whatever extra drilling was done, was simply 
at the expense of sleep, a thing imder the com- 



THE LAND OF LANGUOR 251 

plete control of the mate. We got up when we 
were told to by the mate, as Charlie Horse went 
aft for his orders each evening, and when extra 
work was to be done he was instructed accord- 
ingly. 

Once alongside, we took aboard the long hard- 
wood sugar chutes, worn smooth by endless pol- 
ishing of the gunny sack, in which the partly re- 
fined sugar is shipped. These chutes were ar- 
ranged very cleverly by Nigger who came 
aboard with a shore gang of stevedores. The in- 
clination must be just right, and the chutes must 
be placed just so, in order to prevent spilling, 
where it is necessary to cut corners in order to 
reach the farther parts of the hold. We were 
glad that natives were to stow the ship; in fact 
this work is mighty technical, and we never 
would have been able to do so with our crew. 
Working with the natives, we picked up a lot 
of knowledge about the handling of sugar, points 
that were to be of much use to me in later years 
when I returned to the islands as mate of a 
steamer. 

On the Railroad Wharf there were several 
lines of track and some turnouts carrying short 
flat cars loaded with sugar bags all safe under 
huge tarpaulins. We also found the warehouse 



252 UNDER SAIL 

pretty well stocked with it, and were told that 
when we once started to load, the sugar would 
pour into the ship in a constant stream. 

That night we again put up our mosquito bars 
against the enemy from which we had mercifully 
been saved during the few days in the stream. 
Tired but strangely content, we sat on the fo'c'sle 
head in the evening glow or walked out on the 
stringpiece of the railroad wharf, which then 
jutted far into the harbor, and watched the lights 
aboard the U. S. S. Bennington. Except Peter, 
we had made no friends aboard the gunboat. 
They seemed like men of a different world, as 
indeed they were. The sounding of "taps" over 
the water, the clear plaintive notes of the bugle, 
ended our day. We were to load on the mor- 
row; at last we were to start on the final half of 
our voyage, with the taking aboard of our first 
bag of sugar. 



CHAPTER XXI 

LOADING SUGAR 

OADING a deepwater ship with sugar in 
the port of Honolulu during the golden 
summer days of the young Republic was a lively 
business. 

"Hi there! On the dock! Bear a hand with 
that sugar! Shake it up now ! Shake it up! Do 
you think we have a year to load this ship? By 

! I'll shake you up! Yes, me! You lazy 

black !" 

"Pau! Paul Kaliopoulie! kaue Ki! Ki! O 

000 maloue haue Pau. Likee Pau — / Paul 

pau! pau! Oh — ee hakau! pau! pau!'' or words to 
that effect, according to the phonetic rendering. 
A violent protest of many tongues, bristling 
with exclamation points, and heated Kanaka 
epithets, rose from the indignant dock gang. 
Glances of the utmost withering scorn were shot 
up out of the hold at the mate standing abreast 
of the main hatch, and all over the dock shirts 
were being slipped back onto the silky brown 

253 



254 UNDER SAIL 

backs, stripped in readiness for the work to start. 
The uproar of indignation was spontaneous, and 
on the outskirts of the racket the stocky Japa- 
nese coolies from the sugar plantation gangs, and 
from the railroad gang, stood around in sullen 
enjoyment of the situation. Aboard ship we of 
the crew were circumspect, but our appreciation 
of the situation was keen. 

"What's this?" A smart looking chap in a 
suit of khaki, and wearing a panama hat, stepped 
out of the office on the dock. He was sun 
browned and efficient ; springy in his movements, 
a natural commander of men. 

"Pau !" cried a dark skinned per- 
spiring stevy, pointing at the mate, and sending 
forth another shower of island rhetoric. The 
gang foreman of the shore crowd was explain- 
ing, brown face shining and eyes flashing black 
and white, 

"All right! I'll see about it." The railroad 
superintendent climbed aboard and took JSIr. 
Zerk aft, out of earshot, where they got things 
settled. Then the superintendent went back 
on the dock, the gang foreman got an ear- 
ful of second hand apologies, explanations 
and promises. Important details of same were 
passed on to independent Kanaka citizens by 



LOADING SUGAR 255 

their boss, and the steam winch started as 
the shirts again were slipped off of the silky 
brown backs of the workers. We are off. The 
first sling of sugar bags shot over the bulwark 
and landed on the platform abreast the hatch and 
four Kanakas started sending it down the chutes 
like lightning. Bing! Another sling dripped 
on the platform, and down it went. The action 
became automatic, the brown bodies swayed rap- 
idly, surely, and on the wharf we heard them 
shouting as the Jap coolies inched along another 
car with their crow bars. I was stationed at a 
point where two chutes met at an angle, and the 
yellow bags passed me in rapid succession, slap- 
ping the chute with a smart patter as they 
jumped the corner. Soon the whole thing be- 
came a matter of easy routine. This was living! 
What an easy job! The dusky gang below, 
working in the half light of the hold, and assisted 
by the crew, were placing a bottom layer of su- 
gar bags and forward stacking and stepping 
back the tiers, "boulking" it, as sailors say, for 
the ends of the hold to be kept clear. 

The Hawaiian sugar is only partly refined, 
and of a dull golden color when the sun strikes 
it. It is largely granular, the particles being 
almost the size of a small pea. The sacks, made 



256 UNDER SAIL 

of gunny, are stamped with the names of the 
various plantations; Ewa, Laie, Halawa, Holua 
Loa, Kilauea, Makee, Wailuku, and a dozen oth- 
ers, all of them the mystic symbols spelling 
wealth to their fortunate owners. 

They weigh in the neighborhood of one hun- 
dred and fifty pounds of the limpest, deadest, 
weight in the world and without decent "ears" 
at the end of the sack to afford a hold. Fre- 
quently a sack would break, and we would help 
ourselves to the sugar. The taste is pleasant at 
first, and we were remarkably liberal in our in- 
dulgence, perhaps no more so than a crew of girls 
would be if they were loading a cargo of choco- 
late creams. 

The sugar as it comes from the island refiner- 
ies is about twice as sweet as the white granu- 
lated article. To a crowd accustomed to black 
jack molasses as a sweetener for their coffee, the 
sugar was a wonderful delicacy, for a time. Soon 
we became cloyed with the taste, and for weeks 
after my first gorging of sweets, I took my coffee 
and tea without it, though we always had a small 
keg of the stuff on hand forward during the re- 
mainder of the voyage. The sweet overpowering 
smell of the sugar soon permeated the ship, and in 



LOADING SUGAR 257 

the heat of midday, became nauseating to us 
who were not used to it. 

The Kanaka workers, splendid specimens, 
would toss the heavy sacks with apparent ease, 
the muscles rippling under their smooth skins 
as they worked. The greatest good feeling pre- 
vailed in the hold, and the men constantly re- 
ferred to our mate amid sallies of laughter for it 
was considered a great victory for them when 
the superintendent smoothed matters out. 

On deck, at the hatch, and on the wharf, the 
tally men checked the loading of every sling and 
bag of sugar that went into the hold. The plan- 
tation, the railroad, and the ship's agents had 
their independent checkers. These chaps, mostly 
sedate older men, well educated, apparently well 
paid, kept the neatest tally books I have ever 
seen. They made the cleanest little marks with 
very sharp pencils, which they were always sharp- 
ening with very sharp pen knives; little marks 
four in a row, and a cross for every fifth bag. 
Before the end of each day's loading these very 
independent tally men would get together under 
the fo'c'sle head, or behind a convenient freight 
car on the dock, and reconcile all differences, thus 
proving themselves brothers under their skins to 
independent folk in higher stations. Years after- 



258 UNDER SAIL 

ward, I recognized some of these same tally men, 
still at the job of making very neat little marks 
and crosses, an easy job no doubt and well worth 
while if it contributed toward the upkeep of a 
happy family; most of them looked like settled 
benedicts. 

As we cleaned out the warehouse, the sugar 
began to come in on the railroad and was slung 
right aboard from the cars, the Japs sending the 
loaded cars along by pushing, getting them 
started by short crow bars, used as levers under 
the wheels. These Japs were a husky lot with 
very able bodies, small heads, black cropped 
hair, often wound with a red or white head band. 
Most of them had dazzling white teeth which 
they constantly exposed by expansive grins; al- 
together they were a testimonial to a rice and fish 
diet, so far as physical wellbeing is concerned. 

The days at the sugar wharf were among the 
most pleasant of our stay in Honolulu, and like 
all good things they raced away with disquieting 
swiftness. Having lighter duties to perform, we 
were not so dog tired at night and enjoyed our 
leisure that much more. Peter continued to 
make progress with the native population and on 
one eventful night was presented with a large 
jug of swipes, as a token of esteem. 



LOADING SUGAR 259 

Brenden, AlXcI and I were up on Nuuanu 
Street, in the vicinity of Merchant, watching the 
shifting crowds as we wandered aimlessly about. 
Presently we spied Peter, coming toward us, car- 
rying his jug. The street was fairly crowded, 
and going ahead of us, toward Peter, was a one- 
legged man; a pugnacious individual who 
brought down his iron shod peg with loud deter- 
mination. The wooden leg yawed badly, sailing 
at least three sheets in the wind, and the flag side- 
walk was none too wide for him. Coming up to 
Peter, he lurched suddenly to port, taking our 
shipmate squarely on the bow, and the three of 
them, all carrying cargo, Peter, the Peg Leg, 
and the Jug of Swipes, rolled into the dusty 
gutter. 

A fight started right there. The Peg, to give 
him a proper name, attacking, and Peter defend- 
ing himself from the strange fury of the indig- 
nant cripple. 

"Separate 'em! Don't you see the man's got 
only one leg?" 

"Hi! The bloat wi' the wooden pin is fight- 
in'! Blarst 'im! — look at 'im!" Sailors, beach 
combers, natives, and Orientals were gathering 
and taking voice. 

We closed to render assistance as the crowd 



260 UNDER SAIL 

formed under the circle of light from a street 
lamp. The two combatants sat back in the gut- 
ter after a second exchange, both having fought 
sitting down. 

"What are we fighting for?" cried Peter, cov- 
ered with dirt and sweat. 

"I dunno," admitted the stunned Peg. 

"To hell with this, let's quit!" 

"ISTaw. I wanna fight!" Peg was getting back 
his belligerent wind. "Wash in that jug?" he 
demanded, seeing the prize. 

"Swipes!" cried Peter, trying to retrieve the 

jug- 

"Lesh fight fer swipsh. Al ri! Fight fer 

swipsh!" he screamed with enthusiasm. 

The Peg made another lunge at Peter, as our 

boy jumped up with surprising energy, and we 

grabbed our shipmate and hauled him out of the 

crowd of riff raff that was rapidly increasing. 

Some blue- jackets from the Bennington came 

up, scenting fun, and Axel was just in time to 

beat them to the jug of swipes that lay neglected 

in the dust. He passed this to a Kanaka standing 

near, a boy we recognized as one of the loading 

gang, who rapidly departed with his unexpected 

present, while we hurried off with Peter in the 

direction of Fort Street, What became of Peg 



LOADING SUGAR 261 

is unknown. On Fort Street we were attracted 
by the melody of Salvation Army music, and to 
wind up the night, watched our famous Jimmy 
rouse things up in his new uniform, his chest ex- 
panding visibly as he ignored us and pounded 
his drum with added zest. 

On nights such as this, warm and sultry, when 
the trade wind was not over strong, the smell 
from the Chinese and Japanese stores would 
come out into the streets with added intensity. 
The Chinese merchants, in the shadow of their 
open front stores, would entertain their families 
and friends of an evening with interminable jab- 
berings that must have been mighty interesting 
to them. I used to wonder what these indus- 
trious law abiding citizens found to talk about; 
now I realize that, except to those who were 
blind or deaf, the Honolulu nights could hardly 
be long enough for them to discuss half of the 
peculiar doings of the daffy w^hite people residing 
in that busy little town, in those stirring days of 
the Republic. 

To a foremast hand, a common sailor in the 
fo'c'sle of a deepwaterman, the point of view is 
almost on a level with that of the perpetually un- 
assimilated Oriental. The sailor sees, he hears, 
and if he is gifted with brains that think, he must 



262 UNDER SAIL 

needs wonder at the strange ways of folks who 
dress themselves so well, who live on the most 
appetizing foods, perform very little hard work, 
and who do themselves to the height of their abil- 
ity. That we had a few philosophers among the 
crowd forward goes Avithout saying ; men who had 
lived, and who had had their fling, and for all I 
know to the contrary are having it again. I 
wager Hitchen, if not killed by this time, has 
mounted to more enlightened planes; perhaps 
back to a station from which he temporarily 
stepped down to sign articles in the ship A. J. 
Fuller for the voyage around Cape Horn. 

We did a lot of swapping of books and maga- 
zines among the craft in the harbor. The poor 
starved crowd from the British Monarch were 
first over the side with bundles of old magazines, 
paper covered novels, and mind destroying sheets 
called "Tit Bits," and "Snappy Bits," periodi- 
cals of a peculiar type. After reading one of 
them for an hour (and the funny part is you 
keep on reading and reading) , it is a sort of men- 
tal dope, nothing remains but a vague idea of a 
lot of short paragi'aphs full of piffle. 

We got a number of Clark Russell stories in 
this exchange, though we really had little to give 
in return. All hands read these yams and while 



LOADING SUGAR 263 

there was much grumbling about "too much 
skirt," the sailor was recognized. 

Hitchen and Old Smith were the best read 
among the crowd, with Australia a close second ; 
leaving out of course that biblical student, the 
dear departed Jimmy. Frenchy also was enti- 
tled to a place among the intellectuals of the 
fo'c'sle; he read Voltaire, had several copies of 
his works in the original, as well as shopworn 
copies of Les Miserables, and the Toilers of the 
Sea. Frenchy read English with difficulty. Axel 
also was handicapped in literary discussions by 
his lack of English though he waded through 
books in that language, having been taught it 
at school; of course he spoke English well, as in- 
deed all did, barring a bit of slack here and there, 
that merely served to give the fo'c'sle individu- 
ality. 

One thing I will always remember with a great 
deal of pleasure is the fact that Axel was the 
first one to give me a definite story of the An- 
dree North Pole Expedition, he having tried for, 
and almost succeeded in going along. A univer- 
sity professor took the place he wanted at the 
last moment, the scholar going to perform the 
duties of a common jack in order to be with An- 
dree. I recall the fo'c'sle discussion of this ill 



264 UNDER SAIL 

fated venture, the final outcome of which was 
still in doubt. I felt at that time that Andree 
had a good chance to accomplish his end, and I 
still think so; the luck simply ran against him. 
Nine years later it was to be my fortune to have 
a part in a similar expedition under Wellman, ex- 
cept that a dirigible balloon, of which I was navi- 
gator, was employed. We were more fortunate 
in so far as we got back. Andree, Strindberg, 
and Fraenkel were not fools as some think, but 
fearless scientists who took a legitimate chance 
to explore the unknown polar regions; fate was 
against them, but even so, they have left the 
memory of a brave deed inscribed on the bright 
scroll of Swedish honor. 

Old Smith had a dog-eared copy of Marcus 
Aurelius that had served its noble duty in dis- 
cussions with Jimmy Marshall, while the latter 
was deep in the wisdom of King Solomon. I 
don't know what Brenden read, but he was a 
great letter writer, and often received mail. 
When taking pictures one day, Brenden asked 
me to take a picture of him reading a letter from 
his girl Hilda. The Letters of One Brenden, 
Able Seaman on the ship A, J. Fuller j would 
certainly make quaint reading, could they be got 



LOADING SUGAR 265 

at and translated, for Brenden conducted his cor- 
respondence in German. 

Mike, and Martin and Fred were mere jfillers 
in. Beef on a rope, and able eaters, they remain 
as memories, indistinct and still quite clear; they 




BRKNDEN READING LETTER 



never succeeded in making an impression on the 
life of the ship but were the background of that 
distant time, seldom saying anything that was lis- 
tened to. Of Tommy, or the more dignified 
Tom, we will learn more later on. He was a man 
with a past, and I hope a future, for he certainly 
earned the right to a very bright one while on 
the Fuller; that future, however, did not lie on 
the sea. As high admiral of a pickle barge and 
fleet commander of a whole flotilla of shelf jugs 



266 UNDER SAIL 

full of vinegar and preserved edibles, in his own 
delicatessen store, he may have risen to success. 

Scouse never read anything; he was too busy 
thinking, and as he did less and less talking as 
the voyage lengthened, we concluded he must be 
a very deep fellow. Scouse had points, and I 
have no doubt after all the hazing afloat and 
skinning ashore, he learned and digested lessons 
of the utmost value. 

Peter, of whom so much has been said and so 
little told, was in a way the most interesting 
character on board. He was, and no doubt still 
is, one of the most generous souls alive. If he 
is rich, it is certainly for no lack of a wild desire 
to share his last cent with any unfortunate that 
might cross his path. Peter started to sea in 
deep water sail for reasons that do him credit. 
He saw a way to recoup his health and at the 
same time bring to a conclusion an intense amour 
that seemed to lead directly to an early grave. 
He shipped on the Fuller, leaving a large wash 
behind in the tender care of his sweetheart. No 
boarding master captured part of his advance, 
and for a week afterward at least, so Peter said, 
two coffee pots must have stood on a certain 
N. Y. kitchen window, as a signal that his lami- 



LOADING SUGAR 267 

dry was ready to be taken away. The lady's 
husband was a night clerk in the post office. 

The career of Peter would serve as a theme 
for a first class psychological novel with the plots 
of half a dozen red-hot problem plays added by 
way of good measure. He started life with the 
curse of good looks, of the romantic type, dark 
and interesting, his rather long silky locks, curled 
slightly, and his regular features were classic. 
Deep brown eyes, and a very fine, rich voice 
completed his downfall. As reporter on a coun- 
try paper, Peter told us how he would write 
up the stories of the socialist meetings, by send- 
ing a boy around to the local hall to see if the 
lights were lit. His adventures as foreman in a 
corset factory, as cadet in the American Line, 
and as a social worker in the humble ranks of 
those who uplift the sailor ashore, were chapters 
in the start of a busy life. 



CHAPTER XXII 

GOOD-BYE TO HONOLULU 

AS the hold began to fill up, the top of the 
sugar was brought inboard from the wings 
to an apex, and the lower cargo space not quite 
filled. The 'tween deck was then loaded in or- 
der to carry the dead weight sufficiently high to 
prevent the ship from being stiff; to make her 
more "sea kindly" as sailors say. Theoretical 
questions of metacentric height, of the center of 
buoyancy, and their relation to stability never 
bothered the captain or Mr. Zerk. But as the 
loading progressed they paid a lot of attention to 
her trim and in the placement of the last part of 
the cargo, the mate assumed complete charge. 
The Fuller sailed best trimmed a few feet by the 
stern, but in the final loading this extra depth 
aft was cut down to a single foot as a matter of 
experiment, the mean draft loaded being seven- 
teen feet eight inches, giving her the usual free- 
board of about four feet or three inches to every 
foot of draft, according to the old rule. Draft 

268 



GOOD-BYE TO HONOLULU 269 

is shown by figures cut Into the stem and stern 
post ; these are six inches high and the figure rests 
on the mark it indicates. 

In addition to the sugar from the railroad, we 
had steamers of the inter-island trade come along 
side and discharge their cargoes right onto our 
deck. These craft have been touched upon be- 
fore. The Mauna Loa, one of the largest at that 
time, was quite a passenger carrier. As I think 
of the inter-island steamers they always appear 
to have been somewhat out of drawing, when 
compared with the beautiful sailers of those days. 

During the final week of loading, when we 
had closed the 'tween deck hatches to the lower 
hold and were putting down the finishing tiers 
of cargo, we paid our last visits ashore. I bid 
"good bye" to Mr. Mclnerny and the good 
friends I had made, both in society and out. We 
went over to the British Monarch, Hitchen and 
I, for a last visit. The mates had a bit of a 
"blow" for us, hot toddy, which tasted right in 
spite of the warm weather, cigars, and some 
Huntley and Palmer biscuits broken out of their 
stores for this special occasion. Of course we 
promised to write, and never did, and Mr. Gore 
gave me an old copy of Raper, he having two 
of them, as a parting gift. To Hitchen he gave 



270 



UNDER SAIL 





GOOD-BYE TO HONOLULU 271 

a tin of navy cut that had been sent out to him 
from England. They were hoping for word of 
a charter to be on their way, and thought they 
might load sugar for New York, when we 
planned to meet again as sailors sometimes do. 

With what little change we had left, we laid 
in a few stores for the voyage home, a few 
bunches of bananas, odds and ends of clothing, 
and the like. I purchased a pair of mittens, af- 
ter a search in that tropic city, as mine had worn 
out in hauling at the gear. The most startling 
addition to our life forward was a green parrot 
that Frenchy brought aboard, having swapped 
him at the Union saloon for a small brig, rigged 
in a bay rum bottle. This brig had been a long 
time making, and Frenchy only let go of it when 
he was assured of a prize. The bird, hailing 
from God knows where, as I don't believe they 
are native to the islands, was to be a present to 
his sister Madeleine. Frenchy named him 
Jaques, at once vulgarized to common Jake, and 
he was hung in his wooden cage under the fo'- 
c'sle head. 

Just before hauling into the stream, Captain 
Nichols shipped three Kanakas to take the places 
left vacant by Mr. Stoddard, Jimmy, and Joe. 
This made it certain that someone from the crew 



272 UNDER SAIL 

would be taken aft as second mate. The Ka- 
nakas were a rare assortment. Kahemuku, a 
lanky, poetical looking fellow with long hair and 
dreamy eyes, hailed from Tahiti. The two oth- 
ers, both of them short and somewhat stout, 
were from Honolulu and should have known bet- 
ter than to ship around the Horn. John Aahee 
was assigned to the starboard watch; he was 
clean shaven and dull, a poor devil who merely 
existed after we got to sea. Black Joe, so the 
mate called him, since his name was beyond or- 
dinary understanding, was fully whiskered with 
a bunch of fuzz that looked like the stuffing of 
an old hair mattress. Joe had a peculiar idea 
about the relation between officers and men, and 
never could get this straightened out. Black 
Joe and Kahemuku were assigned to the port 
watch to take the place of Jimmy and Joe. 

Some of the men thought that I would be 
called aft as second mate. Ambitious as I was 
for preferment, I realized that the billet would 
be about the worst thing that could happen to 
me. Whatever the captain may have thought 
about it, the mate was against me, as we re- 
mained at loggerheads while I visited with my 
"dude friends," which I did at intervals as long 
as we were in port. 



GOOD-BYE TO HONOLULU 273 

Old Smith was the logical candidate for the 
[job, and the mate wanted him. Others were like 
Barkis, but the strange part was that the real 
sailors in the crew, the men who knew enough 
to stand a watch at sea and work the ship, were 
the most anxious to side step the honor. 

Having loaded our sugar, the chutes were 
sent ashore, and we again hauled out into the 
stream, this time for good. We at once battened 
down the hatches, putting on triple tarpaulins, 
and, having taken down the cargo pendants, we 
again rove the seagoing running gear; after a 
day of scrubbing, during which the spars were 
washed clean of dust, we then began to bend sail. 
This took us the greater part of two days while 
we sent aloft the fine weather canvas. Then fol- 
lowed another general washing down and clean- 
ing over the side, and the ship A. J. Fuller looked 
herself again. Loaded to her deep sea trim, with 
yards squared to a hair and canvas furled with 
a harbor stow, we were as flash a ship as ever 
hailed from the port of New York — clean, and 
seamanlike in eyeiy detail. Fancy manropes were 
got out for the gangways, the gallej^ smoke stack 
was given a coat of black paint, making "Charlie 
Noble," as this piece of humble but necessary sea 



274^ UNDER SAIL 

furniture is called, as sporty as any part of the 
old girl. 

In the meantime, while our busy little ship 
world revolved within its restricted orbit, events 
of historic importance were happening in the 
great arena beyond the seas. Dewey had cap- 
tured Manila and the first troops to go out from 
the United States were expected in Honolulu, en 
route to the Philippines. Preparations to wel- 
come them of a gigantic nature w^ere carried out 
by the enthusiastic citizens of Honolulu, the 
American element being in the ascendant. A tre- 
mendous flag was got ready, to be raised over the 
railroad wharf, and huge stores of sandwiches 
were made and held in readiness for the soldiers. 
Also every barrel and bottle of beer in the place 
was put on ice against an emergency. The cit- 
izens were determined that hunger should not 
outflank the U. S. forces, if by any means it could 
be prevented, nor was old General Thirst to be 
allowed to down a single man. It was also de- 
cided that U. S. legal tender was not to be ac- 
cepted when offered for refreshment by a man 
wearing the uniform of Uncle Sam, showing how 
war fever (for a time) upsets the commercial 
mind. 

The transports City of Pehin, City of Sydney, 



GOOD-BYE TO HONOLULU 275 

and Australia^ came into the harbor on June 
first carrying twenty-two hundred troops. These 
vessels were under convoy of the U. S. S. Charles- 
ton. The day was a gala one and in the midst of 
the excitement we received our orders to sail for 
Delaware Breakwater. This came as a surprise 
as we expected to be sent to Frisco because of 
the possibility of our being picked up by a Span- 
iard in view of the uncertain state of affairs in 
the Atlantic. We wxre then in the stream, wist- 
ful gazers at the harbor activities and the glimpses 
of great times ashore afforded by the pier heads 
and the esplanade. 

With the coming of our orders. Captain Nich- 
ols sent out such fresh provisions as deep water 
ships usually take to sea with them. A potato 
bin had been constructed under the fo'c'sle head 
in a place that would be fairly dry and having 
a good circulation of air. Into this we put about 
a ton of the tubers. Some fresh meat was sent 
aboard, and a few bunches of bananas strung in 
the after wheel house for the cabin mess. A num- 
ber of our men had been offered billets on coast- 
ers, and this was specially so during the last few 
weeks of our loading. The pay day of close to 
fifty dollars already on the books, and the pros- 
pect of landing in New York with almost eighty 



276 UNDER SAIL 

dollars added to it, was a prospect hard to leave, 
especially since the plans for great futures de- 
pended absolutely upon these prospective nest 
eggs. The fact, however, was that we were a 
well selected crowd and liked to sail together. 
The captain was absolutely square and the mate 
was a sailor from his toes to his truck; we were 
too much accustomed to the routine on the Fuller 
to want to change. As far as I was concerned, 
I was happy to remain on board and work back 
around old Cape Stiff again. Mr. Mclnerny had 
offered to have me released from the articles and 
wanted me to take up my residence in the islands, 
telling me of the many advantages, much after 
the manner of Robinson Crusoe's old father, when 
that wilful lad determined upon the sea as a ca- 
reer. I, too, had old Crusoe's trouble pretty well 
soaked into my system. I was really an en- 
thusiast about going to sea, in spite of the hard 
knocks, so I made up my mind to complete the 
voyage. 

On Sunday, five days before we sailed, the cap- 
tain called Old Smith aft and formally offered 
him the billet as second mate. Old Smith re- 
fused to move out of the fo'c'sle, and came for- 
ward with a fat cigar in his teeth, saying, "The 
skipper's all right. He sure is all right." 



GOOD-BYE TO HONOLULU 277 

After that we were too busy to think anything 
more of the vexed problem, being horsed about 
at bending sail and preparing for sea. On the 
eve of our departure we were sitting on the 
fo'c'sle head watching the crowded harbor, the 
comings and goings from the men o' war and 
transports, and listening to the bugle calls. We 
had washed up after the day's work, and the mess 
cooks had gone to the galley for the kids. 

"We'll sleep our last night in, tonight," ven- 
tured Frenchy, as we perched on the heel of the 
starboard cathead. It was a thought that came 
to all of us. 

"Grub O!" called Fred from the space about 
the fore pin rail, where both watches ate together 
while in port. We sat around the kids, under the 
tall gear of the foremast rising overhead, the faint 
peppering of stars showing between the yards as 
we began our supper. 

"Here comes the mate," said Martin, who was 
perched on the short ladder leading to the fo'c'sle 
head, from the port side of the house. 

"Wot of it, let him come." 

Presently Mr. Zerk stood in the gangway 
looking at us, he bulked big, and smoked a strong 
cigar. This was the first time he had ever in- 
truded upon our meals during our stay in port. 



278 UNDER SAIL 

"Where's the second mate?" he asked pleasant- 

ly- 

Most of us looked around anxiously, half ex- 
pecting the old second mate would bob up from 
some dark corner. 

"Come on, where is he?" The mate v/as evi- 
dently enjoying his little game. "Where is he 
now?" came the question again, but in a sharp 
tone such as we usually associated with coming 
trouble. "Come on, where is he?" Suddenly he 
started to laugh; of course we all joined him in 
a sort of nervous chorus. 

"Ho, there he is hiding behind the kid! Our 
new second m.ate, Mr. Morstad! Well, well, 
well!" and this is how Tommy, most unexpected 
of candidates, became ^Ir. Morstad, second mate 
of the ship A. J. Fuller. 

"Lay aft," said the mate, as he turned to go, 
"the steward has your dinner ready, and don't 
forget to bring your napkin." 

Tommy was choking with astonishment, 
speechless, and miserable. ISTone of us laughed 
at the last cruel thrust; in fact we felt sorry for 
Tommy, but as soon as we saw him stop eating 
the fo'c'sle grub, with the quick perception that 
better things awaited him aft, a lively discussion 
arose. 



GOOD-BYE TO HONOLULU 279 

"Call him Mr. Morstad!" thundered Australia. 
"I won't have no disrespect here just because Mr. 
Morstad ain't had the bringin' up you an' me has. 
No, sir, I have some respect for the officers of 
this ship, I have." 

There was a lot more in a similar vein. Volun- 
teers offered to carry his chest aft, and did every 
thing but lift it, poor Tommy having to drag 
it along the deck until he got to the waist, when 
Chips came out of his den and helped him the 
rest of the way. It was dark then, and the gong 
for the second cabin table no doubt compensated 
Tommy for all the tortures of his departure. 

"I'm damn glad he ain't in my watch," said 
Brenden, and all of us to port felt the same way. 
Before Tommy had time to adjust himself to 
his new condition, the kicking started to star- 
board. 

In this particular episode of the voyage Mr. 
Zerk departed as far from the traditions of the 
sea as it was possible for him to go. The next 
morning, as we got under way to sea, Captain 
Nichols made it a point to show public respect 
to the new second officer. It was "Mr. Morstad, 
this," and "How do you head, sir?" all of which 
pleased Tom immensely, and was the right and 
proper thing to do. 



CHAPTER XXIII 

HOMEWARD BOUND 

And we're off to Mother Carey 
(Walk her down to Mother Carey !) 
Oh, we're bound for Mother Carey where she feeds 
her chicks at sea ! 

Kipling, 

ARE feet, gripping the cool deck of the 
fo'c'sle head, still wet with the washdown, 
pattered in rhythmic circles to the music of the 
jjawls, sounding over the early morning stillness 
of Honolulu Harbor. We were heaving up the 
anchor, having already taken in our quarter 
moorings. The pilot was aboard ; Captain Nich- 
ols stumped the poop with his characteristic jerky 
stride, all business; second mate Tom was aloft 
with a half dozen hands, and the pleasant swish 
of falling canvas, and the rattle of blocks and 
running gear, sounded above as they cast off the 
long sea gaskets. About us in the harbor the 
men o' war and transports lay silent to their moor- 
ings, sleeping oiF the effect of a day and night 

280 



HOMEWARD BOUND 281 

of revelry ashore. Mr. Zerk stood out over the 
bow on the port cathead, his hand on the catfall, 
as he leaned far over. 

"Five fathom shackle at the water!" he sung 
out. 

"All right! Bring her short!" came the order 
from the poop. 

"Aye, aye, sir! Walk her up, up, boys! Walk 
her up, and wake her up/' 

Old Smith got the tune and presently the dirge 
of an anchor chantey echoed across the water as 
we bent our weight against the capstan bars. 

"Paddy come back and turn in your slack, 
Heave round the capstan, heave a pawl, heave a pawl. 
We're leavin' Honolulu girls, and never will come 

back. 
Heave round the capstan, heave a pawl, heave a pawl. 
An' happy days all lie behind, good bye to swipes and 

rum. 
Heave round the capstan, heave a pawl, heave a pawl." 

"Short stay, sir!" bawled the mate, and we 
stopped our song. The faint echo of a cheer 
wafted across the harbor; we recognized the hail 
from our friends on the British Monarchy watch- 
ing to see us off. 

"Break her out, sir!" answered the captain, 



282 UNDER SAIL 

sending his voice along the length of the ship in 
sharp, snappy syllables. 

"Aye, aye, sir!" 

At "short stay,'' I was ordered to the wheel 
and as I slipped the spokes from the beckets, the 
crowd at the bars again put their beef to the 
cable, and the anchor left bottom. The tug fas- 
tened to our quarter got her signal from the pilot ; 
we heard the jangle of bells in her engine room; 
we commenced to move. 

"Hard a port!" ordered the pilot. 

"Hard over, sir!" 

"Steady so! Steady so!" We were heading 
toward the old marine railway, the line of the 
Esplanade having swung under the jib guys with 
remarkable swiftness, as I turned the wheel to 
meet her. 

"Port handsomely!" I gave her wheel. "Port, 
I say! Hard a port!" 

"Hard a port, sir!" Again the shore shot 
past her bow, and then the blue water of the 
harbor mouth lay fair ahead. 

"Steady! Starb'd a point! Steady so!" 

We were pointing out through the narrow en- 
trance of Honolulu Harbor. Forward they had 
hooked the cat and the fall was brought ''two 



HOMEWARD BOUND 283 

blocks'^ while the great hook hung upright, drip- 
ping the slimy harbor silt. 

The mate then assumed charge of the deck, 
sheeting home and hoisting away as fast as the 
men could man the ropes. A light off shore 
breeze on the port quarter bellied out the canvas. 
The buoys, barrel buoy to starboard, spar buoy 
to port, slipped past us. Presently the tug start- 
ed to drag her head to port, as the ship's way 
increased, and I had to give her wheel to meet 
her. 

"Guess we are all right now, Pilot." 

"All right. Captain. All clear ahead and plenty 
of water from here to the Horn. Good luck and 
a quick passage." 

They shook hands, the pilot waved a farewell 
to the mate down in the waist, then jumped onto 
the wheel house of the tug from our mizzen chan- 
nels. A few squeaky toots by way of a salute 
as she cast off, and the tug swung sharply about 
and headed back to port; the last link binding us 
to Honolulu had been severed. 

At eight bells, breakfast time, I was relieved 
and, on my way forward, I stopped for a part- 
ing glance back at Honolulu. What was my 
surprise when I found it well down on the hori- 
zon, the Island of Oahu stretching a mere blur 



284 UNDER SAIL 

of bluish green across our wake. A lump rose 
in my throat for I did wish to have another look 
at that fair city of dreams, but it was already 
a thing of the hazy past; a figment of memory; 
the port of phantasmagoria; a jumble of many 
colored people, of smells, of music ; of green and 
restful bowers, of feverish energy and of indo- 
lence, of days of dirty, sweaty labor, and of 
nights of romantic adventures. And what of 
Jimmy Marshall, I wondered, left behind with 
his uniform and drum? 

Yes, we were out to sea again, the cool breeze 
wafting us along, out on the restless ocean as 
before, months and months ago too numerous to 
remember, when we sailed to the eastward with 
the Navesink Highlands dropping far behind us 
in the sunset. Now the only difference was the 
fact that the Island of Captain Cook, the first 
port of Stevenson on his retirement to the Pa- 
cific, and that vivid stage upon which Father Da- 
mien lived and died, was fading away far to the 
north. 

At breakfast we again separated into watches 
but with orders to turn to again, as the first 
day was to be one of "all hands." We were glad 
to a man that the homeward passage had com- 
menced. The drop in temperature put snap into 



HOMEWARD BOUND 285 

us and Australia celebrated our departure by 
tearing down the dingy mosquito bar triced above 
his bunk. He balled this up and hove it over the 
side with the remark, "Here goes me night cage; 
good-bye forever." 

The breeze was blowing strong, a splendid 
northeast trade, and the smooth sea made our 
progress something very cheering. At two bells 
I was called aft and, with Brenden and Frenchy, 
helped heave the log chip under direction of Cap- 
tain Nichols. 

The log line, soaked with water, was wound 
on a large reel. Brenden stood on one side of 
the wheel house and held this over his head, each 
hand gripping a handle of the reel as he faced 
squarely aft. He was far enough forward from 
the taffrail so we could tend the line. The log 
chip, a small quadrant of wood weighted on its 
circular side to make it swim upright in the water, 
was attached to the line by a triple bridle, the 
two parts from the ends of the circle being seized 
to a small wooden plug that fitted snugly to a 
wooden socket seized to the part of the log line 
rurming from the apex of the chip. This ar- 
rangement holds the chip upright and perpen- 
dicular to the direction of the log line ; when the 
line is given a sharp jerk, the plug disengages. 



286 UNDER SAIL 

the chip capsizes, and can be easily hauled aboard. 
It is really a sort of miniature sea anchor. 

Captain Nichols stood by with the sand glass. 
Frenchy was told to cast the chip overboard, 
while I stood at the rail to see the line run clear. 
Twenty fathoms of the "stray line" went over 
first, the end being marked by a piece of red 
bunting. As this ran over the talFrail the skip- 
per called out "Turn," at the same time turning 
the glass himself. He was greatly pleased with 
the whole proceeding and danced around much 
after the manner of a small boy with a new kite. 
The sand glass was a twenty-eight second one, 
and the captain had dried it out in the galley that 
morning and then compared it with his chron- 
ometer. 

The line was tearing over the rail like wild 
and as the captain called, "Up!" Frenchy 
grabbed the line. 

Examining the line we found we were making 
10.2 knots. 

At the time of shouting "Up!" Captain Nich- 
ols stepped over to the Bliss taffrail log trail- 
ing on the weather quarter and noted the dial. 
An hour later we again hove the old-fashioned 
log and checked our reading on the patent log. 
For the information of landsmen, it may be well 



HOMEWARD BOUND 287 

to say that a knot on the log line — and here is 
where the term comes from — is a distance of 
forty-seven feet, four inches (for a 28-second 
glass), the same proportional part of a sea mile 
or "knot" of 6,080 feet that 28 seconds is of an 
hour. The different knots along the line are dis- 
tinguished by fish line tucked into the strands 
and a knot cast for each mark away from the 
start. Tenths are estimated, the length between 
knots being divided by shreds of white bunting 
into five parts. If sailing fast, as we were, a 
short glass is sometimes used ; this registers four- 
teen seconds and the readings on the log line 
must be doubled. In passing it may be well to 
mention that the old-fashioned log chip, where 
speeds are not over, say fifteen knots, is the most 
reliable method of measurement of rate of speed 
through the roster ever devised. Also, the fact 
that the sea mile or "knot" is six thousand and 
eighty feet, and not five thousand two hundred 
and eighty feet as ashore, is due to the fact that 
in navigating a ship over the sea it is necessary 
to have a standard of measurement bearing a 
simple relation to the size and shape of the earth. 
One sea mile is the length of one minute of arc 
measured on the meridian, 6,080 feet. This is the 
mean value, for, owing to the flattening at the 



288 UNDER SAIL 

poles, the minute of arc varies slightly from the 
poles to the equator. 

Ten knots and over is fair going for any 
sailer, and extra fine for trade wind sailing. Our 
hopes for a quick passage were high. The water 
boiled past us in a smother of swishing foam, a 
cheerful chatter when homeward bound, while 
aloft every inch of sail was doing its full duty. 
Before noon we got the anchor scrubbed clean 
and at once unshackled the cables and sent them 
below, bowsing the jackasses into the hawse pipes, 
as on the passage out. Both bower anchors were 
then secured inboard and lashed to heavy ring 
bolts on the fo'c'sle head, the cat and fish falls 
were unrove, stopped up and stowed below. 

We put in the afternoon rousing up this rope 
and that, tautening every stitch of canvas to its 
full extent. Our new second mate was given his 
first lessons in the handling of a watch at sea, 
and did well enough, considering the fact that 
Chief Mate Zerk kept the center of the stage, 
as was his habit whenever anything transpired 
on the deck. At four bells the starboard watch 
went below, and we stood the first dog watch. 
In the second dog watch w^e sat around yarning, 
still being too full of rational rest to seek our 
bunks. yVe watched Tommy handle things alone 



HOMEWARD BOUND 289 

— but for all that Captain Nichols was always 
to be seen far aft, stumping the poop, and keep- 
ing a mighty watchful eye on the progress of 
events. During the night watches he was par- 
ticularly in evidence. Tommy gained confidence 
faster than he did experience and assumed a cer- 
tain air of superiority that was galling to his 
former watchmates. Old Smith was the one to 
carry things along by setting a correct example 
to the men. Often when Tom did not know just 
what to do. Old Smith would start things by 
jumping to the proper rope and the order would 
tally along afterward. On the other hand, things 
got so that when Tom gave the wrong orders 
the watch would disregard them and do what 
they thought was right. Old Smith, Hitchen, 
Axel and Charlie Horse knew as much about 
sailing as any second mate, and the result was not 
disastrous, although at times a trifle ragged. 

The captain shaped a course due south, mag- 
netic, running along the meridian of one hundred 
and fifty-eight degrees west from Greenwich. 
This carried us to the eastward of Karatoo Island 
and we then put more easting in the course and 
sailed past the Walker Islands, crossing the equa- 
tor when five days out from Honolulu; a fair 
bit of travelling for a vessel of the latter sailing 



290 UNDER SAIL 

ship days. Here the trades failed us and again 
we were to wallow in the stagnant latitudes that 
try the spirit and vex the soul. But the ship's 
company forward were in excellent humor and 
anything but sea weary. We employed the time 
below, not given over to sleeping, in sewing our 
much worn clothing, in scrubbing clothes, an art 
in which we were expert, and in yarning about 
the times gone by. 

As the days spread into weeks we thought 
more and more of the times to come, and of course 
discussed them at great length. Much of our 
mental intercourse had a hopeful, speculative 
trend. Being wholly human and with all the 
weaknesses that sailor flesh abounds in, it is not 
to be wondered at if the ambitions of that voyage 
never fully materialized; judging by my own, I 
can say they did not. I wanted to command an- 
other such ship as the Fuller, to stump to wind- 
ward and set the course, to have all night in, and 
eat delicious viands at the cabin table. Stranger 
fate was to await me before I cast my anchor 
in the fair cove called home, with kids to crawl 
upon my knee and call me "Dadda," and a wife 
to remind me now and then that I am not cap- 
tain here. 



CHAPTER XXIV 

HAWAIIAN SHIPMATES 

J AMN these rotten oilskins. By what's 

this?" "Oh, helir It was black as a 
pocket on deck and a sudden douse of rain sent 
us scrambling for our oil clothing. "Damn it 
I'm lousy, sure as you're born. Ugh!" and sim- 
ilar forceful if inelegant expressions punctuated 
the night as we struggled into these smelly, sticky 
rags. They were as paper to the rain; we were 
wet before we knew it. In the pockets and in 
every fold millions of cockroaches, whole na- 
tions of them, debouched upon the streaming 
decks. Some of us stole forward and in the light 
from the fo'c'sle examined things. On the fo'c'sle 
deck, where we had knocked them in hastily, un- 
hooking the oiled clothing from the bulkhead be- 
hind the water butt, were several regiments of 
roaches. 

During our two months in Honolulu we had 
never used oilskins, and, sailor-like, left them 
hang. In the warm atmosphere the bugs mul- 

291 



292 UNDER SAIL 

tiplied amid luxurious surroundings with unlim- 
ited supplies of delicious linseed-oil to thrive up- 
on. Fortunately we were in the tropics and a wet 
back did not matter, especially as we always 
doused ourselves with a bucket of salt water after 
a wetting by rain, a sure way to prevent colds. 
As for the evicted roaches, they were no doubt 
as mad as we were. In the next fine spell we 
rubbed our oilskins with fresh mixtures of raw 
oil and a little melted beeswax from the sail- 
maker's stores. 

The first job of any magnitude started, after 
leaving port, was to scrape all bright work, that 
is, all varnished woodwork, masts and light spars. 
We then rubbed them down with boiled linseed- 
oil. This work was done from bo'sun's chairs, 
using pieces of broken glass as scrapers. The fine 
shavings fluttered into every crook and corner of 
the ship, lodging in the coils of rope and pro- 
viding a constant job of cleaning while the work 
was under way. Scouse was again elected to 
the drudgery, but in this instance he became a 
man of some importance, for Kahemuku and 
Black Joe were assigned to work with him. He 
jollied them in a rough, uncouth way and they 
sat at his feet in respectful worship. They were 
permanently constituted the knockabout gang of 



HAWAIIAN SHIPMATES 293 

our watch and cleaned out the head every other 
morning when we were on deck for the wash- 
down. Getting up coal for the galley of a Sun- 
day morning was one of their regular jobs, and 
after the washdown they were the boys who han- 
dled the big deck swabs while the rest of us got 
the gear off the pins and stowed the washdeck 
utensils. 

As for myself, a change had come over the 
mate, or I too would have been of this crowd. 
Our relations were fairly cordial again, becoming 
increasingly so when I loaned him copies of 
"Midshipman Easy" and "Commodore Junk," 
books given me by my father when I left home. 

Of the three Kanakas we had the prize win- 
ner in Black Joe. In the first place Black Joe 
never said "sir" to an officer, but he applied this 
mark of distinction to every hand forward. At 
first some of the boys wanted to make Black Joe 
permanent messman of the watch. He was will- 
ing enough, for he knew nothing about a ship 
and felt his shortcomings and wanted to help 
out. 

"Be fair with him. How would you like that 
job regular?" Frenchy put in the good word 
and we decided that Black Joe was to get a 
square deal forward anyhow. 



294 UNDER SAIL 

His failure to properly respond to orders from 
aft caused a lot of suppressed amusement. The 
mate bawled him unmercifully but to no purpose, 
for Black Joe simply had things set in his mind 
and there was no changing him. Finally, the 
mate worked out a satisfactory solution of the 
problem, so far as he was concerned, though l^lack 
Joe could hardly be termed a third-rate success 
as a sailor. 

"Here you! Fred, take that baboon and loose 
the fore upper tops'l!" was his method of hors- 
ing him. In working the gear on deck he would 
shout, "Get that Kanaka coon and hook him on 
the lee fore brace!" In working ship Black Joe 
was pushed and pulled from station to station. 
He could not coil down a rope properly no matter 
how often the trick was explained to him; every 
other time he would lay the gear down left hand- 
ed as like as not. If he hitched a coil on the 
fife or pin rails it was an even chance that a fid 
would be needed to get it down. Black Joe was 
all thumbs and his slow mind worked backward. 
His best performance was at the kids, but his 
table manners would have disgraced him at a 
luau. 

Kahemuku was of a different type. He was 
sentimental, a dreamer and all for himself when 



HAWAIIAN SHIPMATES 295 

aloft. The way he would strangle the stick when 
out on a yard was a sight for the angels. His 
long arms were as good as three turns of a sea 
gasket, and his bare feet would grip the foot 
ropes with brown prehensile toes. Life was made 
more bearable for him by the fact that he was 
constantly looking forward to a shining goal. 

"Pilladelpia" was the burden of his song. He 
intended to see the great city of "Pilladelpia" 
and asked interminable questions about it, sit- 
ting on the edge of his bunk, a great dusky six 
footer, with the wistful brown eyes of a trust- 
ing child. When told we would probably go 
to New York, he would answer, "No, I wanna 
go Pilladelpia." Poor Kahemuku, whatever be- 
came of you God only knows. You most cer- 
tainly never fell from aloft, but your passage 
around the Horn in the Antarctic winter must 
have prepared you for any fate. 

Sailors, like other mortals, are as jealous of 
their little rights and privileges as any of us 
ashore. To stand a trick at the wheel in regular 
turn, to see that everyone stood his lawful share 
of this duty, was a strong incentive to silence on 
the part of those who were wise to the fact that 
Kahemuku and Black Joe knew nothing about 
steering. They could not box the compass, and 



296 UNDER SAIL 

in fact knew nothing about the action of the hehn 
or the use of the wheel. 

Black Joe stood a trick nevertheless between 
Australia and Fred, and Kahemuku followed 
Fred and was relieved in turn by able seaman 
Brenden. That these three worthies, Australia, 
Fred and Brenden, knew about the Kanaka's 
lack of proficiency was proven by the fact that 
they always passed the course over the head of the 
Kanaka to the man following. For the first few 
days out of port the steering was easy. The wind 
held on the port quarter and the sea was smooth. 
It also happened that the blacks had their tricks 
during the day watches while the captain slum- 
bered. The mate, as was his custom, seldom both- 
ered with the course during the day, devoting 
all of his energy to directing the work on deck. 

On the third day out Australia went to the 
wheel in the first night watch and at four bells 
Black Joe headed aft to assume complete charge 
of the steering, being shunted on his way by 
watchful shipmates. Presently a terrible commo- 
tion aloft startled us, we were brought by the 
lee with a slamming and slatting like thunder. 
Mr. Zerk jumped to the break of the poop and 
started to bawl orders. 



HAWAIIAN SHIPMATES 297 

"Hard up, helium! Weather fore braces! 
Lively there!" 

Everything was shaking, with the yards point- 
ing into the wind, and the ship started to roll. 
"How do you head?" There was no response. 
"How do you head, damn you!'' 

Forward we were swinging the head yards, and 
she started to box off, while aft a secondary 
commotion centered about the wheelhouse, with 
Captain Nichols acting the part of Satan, in yel- 
low silk pajamas, and Black Joe performing 
duty as the Butt of All Evil. 

"What are you steering?" roared the captain. 
'"Mr. Zerk!" never had we heard him so sharp 
before. The mate was already aft, and to change 
the course of wrath, he grabbed Joe and tossed 
him headlong out on the deck, holding the wheel 
himself while he added to the din. "Lay aftl 
Lay aft, a man!" Frenchy responded. In a few 
more moments we were back on the course again 
and the captain held a drumhead court at the 
break of the poop. 

"Keep those black monkeys forward," he or- 
dered, "and don't let this happen again. By 
God, sir, these waters are full of coral reefs, and 
I have got to hold my course, sir," he added, turn- 
ing to the mate. 



298 UNDER SAIL 

The next morning the three Kanakas were 
mustered in the waist and the captain found that 
none of them had the least idea about steering, 
either by compass or by the wind. John Aahee 
of the starboard watch was denser even than Joe. 
Later on these simple fellows made up for their 
lack of steering by doing additional turns at the 
back-breaking bilge pumps. 

After the generous way in which we lived in 
Honolulu, the return to sea grub was sudden and 
disappointing. A week or so saw the end of fresh 
provisions and we were back again on the salt 
horse of the passage out. Lime-juice was given 
us at noon, and with the exception of spuds, we 
were on the regulation lay. The tack was weev- 
ily, the tea even more flavored with roach content 
than before, and the old drill of cracker hash, 
slumgullion, salt horse, and pea soup, with occa- 
sional helpings of applejack, or rare treats of 
Chow's gingerbread, carried us along. 

About this time the parrot, Jake, came in for 
his share of attention. Frenchy planned to take 
the bird home to Madeleine, and as his sister 
would have no use for him otherwise, our careful 
shipmate guarded the moral tone of the green 
bird with great care. He also made a screen of 
ravensduck for the ca^e and was much worried 



HAWAIIAN SHIPMATES 299 

over how the bird would weather the cold in high 
southern latitudes. A month of this care on the 
part of Frenchy was rewarded by the usual re- 
sult in cases of that kind, whether with dogs, 
birds, or children. Jake cut loose in a most ex- 
traordinary manner, after one of his French les- 
sons, and the outburst would have been a credit 
to Mr. Zerk. Frenchy was grieved beyond all 
hope of recovery and one and all we swore to 
our own innocence. The upshot of it was that 
Frenchy lost interest in the parrot and the pro- 
fane Jake became a prime favorite with the crew 
forward. He was really started on his downward 
path by Hitchen, of starboard, who took him in 
hand while his master slept, 

"Here comes the grub!" was one of his re- 
spectable parts of speech, varied later on by "To 
hell with the grub," under the tutelage of Aus- 
tralia. 

After crossing the line, and working our way 
through the doldrum belt of daily showers, calms 
and baffling winds, we held a course that carried 
us between the Marquesas and Tuamotu, or the 
Low Archipelago. During this time we kept a 
special lookout at night and sighted several isl- 
ands, giving them a wide berth. We were in- 
structed to keep our eyes peeled for "white water" 



300 UNDER SAIL 

and had a number of false alarms. On a dark 
night, in this region, the sea is particularly black, 
of a blue blackness that defies description. The 
seas are very phosphorescent, especially so under 
a cloudy sky, and the breaking of a number of 
rollers leaves a white wake that is disturbing to 
a lookout on the edge for breakers. One imag- 
ines that breakers are ahead every few minutes. 
Light rain squalls and brilliant floods of sun- 
shine alternating in the neighborhood of the Mar- 
quesas resulted in our witnessing the most re- 
markable phenomenon of the voyage. We lay be- 
calmed late in the afternoon of a humid hot day, 
odd jobs were going on all over the ship, iron 
work was being chipped, service renewed, and 
Australia and Brenden were rattling down, 
everyone being busy. Frenchy and I, for we 
usually worked together at "nice" jobs, were 
cutting and fitting the canvas for a new mast 
coat on the mizzen, the old one having cracked 
and started a leak into the cabin. This was 
a job that required expert fitting and we 
were all attention to the work. All hands 
were so occupied that we did not notice the 
black rain squall that suddenly came upon us 
in a puff of cold air. A few minutes of this, while 
we manned the weather main and lee crojik, to 



HAWAIIAN SHIPMATES 301 

get whatever push there was in it, was followed 
by the sun breaking through more scorching than 
before, while the wind, such as was left, was dis- 
tinctly up and down. A beautiful rainbow formed 
under the receding cloud, and then we saw that 
we were near an island, close aboard off the star- 
board bow, while the rain pall drifted rapidly to 
port. We came upon it with such suddenness 
that for a moment most of us lost our heads. 

"Hard starb'd !" shouted the skipper, and then 
there was a laugh on deck in which he joined 
heartily. We were as stationary as the island 
except for the little way upon us given by the 
passing rain squall. "Lay aloft and take a look 
at that." Captain Nichols addressed Frenchy 
and me, and we skinned up the mizzen while he 
went to the companion and took the long glass 
from the rack. That land certainly looked 
strange ! 

When going over the top, I stopped. Frenchy 
was ahead of me and almost at the crosstrees. 
He was looking around in a bewildered sort of 
a way ; he was glancing around the entire horizon, 
thinking the ship had changed her head. I too 
looked all about but could see nothing. 

"What do you make out?" called up the skip- 
per. 



302 UNDER SAIL 

"Nothing in sight, sir!" 

"All right. Lay down!" 

It was a fine mirage ; a remarkably clear one. 
When we got to the deck the "island" had as- 
sumed grotesque shapes: the green faded out 
and the palm trees began to look like young 
waterspouts. Suddenly the whole picture melted 
from view. 



CHAPTER XXV 

DRIVING SOUTHWARD 

THE mirage served as a subject for conver- 
sation during many succeeding days and 
the captain warned us to be more than ever on 
the lookout for islands. He seemed to take espe- 
cial pains with his navigation, testing the patent 
log repeatedly by use of the chip log, and com- 
ing up at all sorts of hours during the day and 
night when by any chance the lubber line was as 
much as a quarter point off the course. When 
on a wind, during this period, he practically lived 
on deck, turning in "all standing" for short naps 
during the day. 

A lookout on the fore t'gallant yard was also 
stationed during the daytime. Several more small 
islands were passed, the distant palm trees seem- 
ing like a low broken comb upon the horizon, for 
we gave them plenty of offing as the atoll forma- 
tion often throws its reefs far out. Several times 
our course was altered to do this. 

In the fo'c'sle we had a round of mystery stories 

303 



304 UNDER SAIL 

about islands mainly. One by Frenchy took the 
prize for heavy ghost atmosphere and when told 
in the dusk of a last dog watch with only the stars 
overhead to wink at its absurdity, the effect was 
all that could be desired. This tale had to do with 
an invisible island, situated somewhere about the 
Loyalty Group near New Caledonia. The island 
was invisible by day but could be found by a 
night landfall, and indeed was so discovered by 
that tight little brig the Pere Duchesne, owned 
and sailed by no less a person than the notorious 
Jean Ravail, who did not, as Frenchy assured me, 
perish in the sewers of Paris, as was supposed. 
Ravail was a pirate, of course, though he sailed as 
a peaceful trader, exchanging cognac and rimi 
for beche-de-mer, through the southern islands of 
Polynesia. Driving onto the ghostly island in 
the blackness of the night, anchor was let go just 
in time to prevent the brig from running up the 
beach, and then, to the tune of entrancing music, 
the whole crew, led by Ravail himself, were de- 
coyed ashore by women in flowing robes of white. 
They left to a man, even old Pouly, the mate, 
who held out to the last until a scantily draped 
siren came aboard and carried him ashore in her 
canoe. The story is supposed to have been found 
entered by Pouly in the logbook of the brig when 



DRIVING SOUTHWARD 305 

she was picked up by the frigate La Perouse, 
drifting with her cable chafed through by the 
coral reef. Many weeks of cruising failed to lo- 
cate the island. I always liked this story, for 
Frenchy enjoyed telling it and did it remarkably 
well. 

The starboard watch also stirred uneasily after 
the mirage and as a direct result of it Charlie 
Horse got religion. Not that he had not always 
had it, but these singular events merely brought 
it to the surface as it were. Charlie Horse began 
where our late shipmate Jimmy left off. He was 
extremely rigorous in his beliefs and did not hes- 
itate to preach infant damnation, advising all of 
us who had not been duly baptized to rectify this 
mistake as soon as possible. He paid special 
attention to John Aahee of his watch, and to 
that simple-minded native the awful creed of 
Charlie Horse was a throbbing reality. The exist- 
ence of purgatory was assured; hell was a pos- 
itive fact, a hot and terrible place of torture. 
Often during a brief dog watch of a Sunday, the 
port side would get some of the overflow, which 
we listened to with varying tolerance; his own 
watchmates had arrived at the point of active 
protest. 

With Charlie Horse preaching religion of the 



306 UNDER SAIL' 

hell-fire-and-damnation brand, Frenchy and other 
less expert story-tellers filling the intervals of 
the night watches on deck with ghostly discourse, 
and adding to this the appearance of St. Elmo's 
fires at the yard arms after one of the tropic dis- 
turbances, it was no wonder that we were a bit 
on edge where anything that smacked of the su- 
pernatural occurred. Talk had been rather rem- 
iniscent in one of the last dog watches, the weath- 
er was fine and we were sailing along before a 
gentle quartering breeze without having started 
a sheet or brace for several days — calm of spirit 
prevailed on board for a time, there was little 
hazing and, except for the growing rottenness of 
the tucker, we were content. The mind must 
therefore cast about for something new to seize 
upon. The name of Jimmy Marshall had been 
mentioned a great deal during the watch re- 
ferred to, Axel having told of meeting Jimmy 
on his last night ashore, while returning to the 
ship. Jimmy was sneaking up the dark side 
of TsTuuanu Avenue — there was a moon out — and 
bumped into Axel before he knew it. 
"What! Down to the ship, Jimmy?" 
"Naw, jest took a look at 'er. I 'ears you 
was sailin' an' jest walked down past the Mon- 
arch an' looked over. 'Ow's 'ell on board?" 



DRIVING SOUTHWARD 307 

"Same old wagon, Jimmy. How are they 
treating you?" 

"They's slowly killin' me, Axel, so help me 
Gawd, they is. Talk erbout yer rotters! Say, 
if you knowed as 'ow they does me along of 
some other poor Gawdfersooken fellers. Well, 
what ov it? They looses Jimmy afore long, 
that's wot they does." 

"I'll bet they prays the liver out of him, and 
starves the little faker to boot," was Australia's 
opinion. 

At about one bell, in the first watch, we had 
just got to the stage of half sleep, and were drop- 
ping off for our precious three and a quarter 
hours, when we were all sitting up as well as 
we could, in our bunks. Fred was terror strick- 
en. "By It's Jimmy, I see him!" 

"What in hell's bitin' you?" Australia demand- 
ed. 

"Jimmy Marshall's in here! He spoke tome!" 

"Spoke? Say, you big stiff, if you don't shut 
up I'll speak a few words you'll remember !" Aus- 
tralia was mad clean through. There was a si- 
lence. Something stirred over Australia's bunk, 
next to Fred's. 

"Who's that?" 

"Jimmy Marshall?" shouted the thoroughly 



308 UNDER SAIL 

frightened Fred, and then a voice near the top 
of the fo'c'sle, in the familiar tones of our late 
shipmate, very cracked and lifelike, added to the 
fear. 

"Gawd have mercy. Gawd have mercy !" came 
the words. 

"It's Jimmy! Take him away! Take him 
away!" shouted several, Martin and Scouse 
among them. We were all tumbling out of our 
bunks. Frenchy shot through the open door of 
the fo'c'sle and Scouse close after him. Suddenly 
there was a wild mixture of screams and screeches 
and Australia exploded in a loud, whole-souled 
oath of relief. He held the struggling Jake by 
the tail feathers. The parrot had recently been 
about the only consistent listener to the doctrines 
of Charlie Horse, and his appearance in our 
fo'c'sle at night gave him a chance to retail some 
of his new line of talk. Someone had evidently 
left his cage open and he came in to get out of 
the draft. From this time on the bird got to be 
a nuisance as well as a reminder of our folly. 
Frenchy sold him to Chips for a suit of oilskins. 

During these days of the voyage we overhauled 
our best suit of sails preparatory to bending them 
for the heavy weather off the Cape. I had by 
that time become fairly proficient in the use of 



DRIVING SOUTHWARD 309 

the palm and needle and could sew a presentable 
flat seam, or round seam, as occasion demanded. 
Frenchy was the best sailmaker in our watch, and 
with Brenden and myself, constituted the sail- 
maker's gang to port. Old Smith, Hitchen and 
Axel were the starboard complement in this kind 
of work. We had our benches in the most com- 
fortable part of the deck and of a morning, after 
the washdown, while we were getting the canvas 
out, the rest of the crowd would wipe the deck 
dry with pieces of old sugar bags, getting right 
down on their shin bones and rubbing the planks. 
We put in new tabling, renewed lining cloths, 
sewed on new leather at the clews, wetting it 
so that when dry the leather would shrink tight, 
gripping the bolt ropes so the strands would 
show through. In some of the older sails we 
sewed an extra line of stitching down the middle 
of the double flat seam where the cloths join. 

I learned to properly work the reef and head 
holes. The canvas was cut with a "stabber" and 
a small fish line grom.met laid over the edge, the 
hole then being finished off with a fencing of 
heavy waxed and double laid twine. In these 
later degenerate days, a brass eyelet ring is often 
crimped around the hole, a much quicker job and 
about one-third as strong. 



310 UNDER SAIL 

In all of the lore of cutting canvas for sails, 
and we made a set of skysails on the voyage, the 
mate was a past master. The "reaching," the 
proper way to allow for gores in the cloths, the 
fact that "square" sails are anything but square; 
all such old-time knowledge was handed down 
and eagerly assimilated. We talked of the "hoist" 
of this sail, meaning sails that spread by hoisting 
the yard; and the "drop" of that sail, referring 
to the courses and lower tops'ls. 

On the Fuller the mains! and crojik (corrupt- 
ed from the "cross jack" of the ancients) were fit- 
ted with "cross leeches" and a "midship rope." 
These were stout hemp ropes sewed to tabling 
clothes on the forward side of the sail, the cross 
leeches running from the head earings to the mid- 
dle of the foot, and the "midship rope" from the 
head to the foot of the sail also on the forward 
side. This left the after side of the sail smooth 
so as to draw best when flattened on a wind. 
At the foot of the sail, and hooked into a stout 
thimble where the cross leeches and midship rope 
joined, the "slap line" led aft, and the "midship 
tack" led forward. With wind a point or two 
on the quarter, the weather clew garnets of the 
main and crojik would be hauled up and these 
sails set perfectly by the midship tack and the 



DRIVING SOUTHWARD 311 

weather cross leech, in this way allowing a good 
share of the breeze to distend the great foresail 
for all it was worth. Sailors who have not been 
shipmates with this method of fitting the after 
courses will appreciate the utility. 

One thing Mr. Zerk always harped upon 
was the necessity of making canvas set flat, wheth- 
er on the wind or before it. 

A large sail, the main course, for instance, is 
fitted with what at first blush appears to be a 
useless amount of gear. The sail being bent to 
the yard by means of the head earings and ro- 
hands is handled by use of the following ropes: 
the tacks leading forward from the clews, the 
sheets leading aft. When before the wind the 
sail is held to the deck by the two sheets, the tacks 
being idle. When on a wind, that is, close hauled, 
the weather tack is boarded and the lee sheet 
hauled aft. To reef, the tacks and sheets are 
started and the reef band hauled up on the yard 
by the reef tackles. To furl, the clews are 
hauled up to the quarter of the yard by means 
of the cl&w garnets while the body of the sail 
is gathered in by the leechlines and the hunt- 
lines. Add to this bowline bridles for steadying 
out the weather leech when on a wind, slap line 
for keeping the foot of the sail away from the 



312 UNDER SAIL 

mast in light winds and calm, the midship tack 
used when sailing with the weather leech hauled 
up, and we have a very respectable lot of rig- 
ging on our sail. Upper tops'ls are ahnost as 
bad. Now this means nothing to the landsman, 
but a lot of queer names, yet the gear has come 
down through long ages of elimination and repre- 
sents the utmost efficiency in handling sailing can- 
vas. A main sail is a mighty spread on a large 
modern ship and may show to the wind as much 
as four thousand square feet of surface. Our 
mainsail on the Fuller was approximately of this 
size. Given a heavy press of wind, say twenty 
pounds to the square foot, and we have the sail 
urging our ship along to some purpose. 

To get back to the voyage, after a reminis- 
cent ramble with technicalities for which we ask 
forgiveness, though old, and perhaps new, "shells" 
may read it, I will add that the working of can- 
vas is one of the best jobs aboard ship. We were 
excused from jumping up at every order to do 
some bit of pulling or hauling, and knowledge 
of the tricks of palm and needle stamped a man 
as of the real salt. 

Australia, Charlie Horse, Tony, and a few 
others were kept busy renewing chafing gear, fit- 
ting sword mats and helping Chips, who was con- 



DRIVING SOUTHWARD 313 

stantly employed about the ship at repair and 
renewal of the wooden fittings. The battens on 
the "swifters" were always being broken by the 
clew garnets, and had to be renewed, the pump 
leathers were overhauled at frequent intervals, 
hatch wedges were constantly inspected and "set 
up," and Chips was the man to do these things. 

Martin, Mike, Fred and Peter were given a 
large job of overhauling all spare blocks. The 
pins were knocked out and turned over so that 
the least worn side of the pin would bear against 
the bushing. Iron straps were chipped and red 
leaded and all the deck and emergency tackles 
were treated in the same way, the blocks, thim- 
bles, and falls being put in fine shape; nothing 
was spared in the quality of the material with 
which we worked. Whips and gear aloft might 
be turned end for end, but after that they were 
unrove and put to humbler uses ; never spliced ex- 
cept in an emergency. On a ship, the odds and 
ends of rope yarn, oakum, and old wornout gear 
is headed up in barrels and sold as "shakings." 
This is often the perquisite of the mate. 

Scouse, as usual, was in for the drudgery, with 
Kahemuku and Black Joe tailing along as his as- 
sistants. He did not seem to mind it and got on 
famously with the Kanakas. It was always "sir" 



314 UNDER SAIL 

to Scouse, from Black Joe, who looked upon the 
big Dutchman as a sort of hero. The red thatch 
may have had something to do with this attitude, 
but whatever the cause, Scouse would have got 
at least two votes had he ever become a candi- 
date for President of Hawaii. 

Just before shifting sail, this taking place dur- 
ing a lull between the S. E. trades and the coun- 
ter trades, we sent down the main lower tops'l 
yard and rigged and sent up a spare spar that 
we had on deck. This was a regular seaman's 
job and called for all hands during an entire 
day. The old yard had a slight spring, a fault 
developed in the heavy weather off the Cape on 
the passage out. We unbent the sail, leaving it 
stopped on the main yard, all the gear, clewlines, 
buntlines, etc., being carried into the top and the 
quarter blocks hooked to the main cap. The yard 
was sent down by means of a stout burton from 
the topmast pendant, and the upper tops'l sheets, 
downhauls, etc., were unrove and carried into the 
main top. The upper tops'l was hung in its gear 
and the yard steadied out by the braces alone. As 
we had a fair sailing breeze, the t'gan's'l and up- 
per canvas was kept set. 

As soon as the long yard was down, we un- 
hooked the burton and fastened onto the new 



DRIVING SOUTHWARD 315 

stick, swaying this aloft, when the braces were 
hooked. The lifts were then attached and, as 
soon as the yard was up, the standard was keyed, 
and all running gear rove. We bent sail in rec- 
ord time, had everything shipshape again and 
sheeted home before two bells in the afternoon 
watch. 

A few days after this, on a Sunday, of course, 
we shifted sail and we knew that we were in for 
some more dirty weather. "Well, this will be 
the last," was the feeling voiced more than once 
by the men in the fo'c'sle. 

During the time of many jobs, of fine weather, 
and much activity of a sailor kind, the Kanaka 
Kahemuku astonished us by his skill in tattooing. 
Of a Sunday he was always busy. His first sub- 
ject was Scouse, and we watched the progress 
of art with great interest. Kahemuku offered to 
fix me up, but I had in mind the advice of my 
father and decided to remain undecorated by 
anchor or star. 

"You are wise, kid," Australia agreed. "Them 
marks never come off and they are a hard thing 
to get by with. Many a poor bloke has gone to 
the gallows because he carried a bright red star 
of hope tattooed on his chest." 

While not altogether complimentary in his al- 



316 UNDER SAIL 

lusion, Australia was right. Scouse, however, 
showed his honest contempt for this point of view 
by having a Hula Hula dancer done on his chest. 
For a while he looked as if he had been ciiisted 
by a growth of barnacles. 

As we ran past the little islands of the South 
Pacific, that lay sparsely scattered along our 
track, Kahemuku would gaze at them with in- 
tense longing. His desire for "Pilladelpia" alone 
compensated him for their loss. But, after a 
while, the increasing chill overcame all thoughts 
of that wonderful city of "Pilladelpia," and Kahe- 
muku, Black Joe and the melancholy Aahee 
turned a shade of ghastly gray. They lay shiv- 
ering in their bunks during the watch below, ob- 
jects of compassion to the rest of us who were 
hardened to the cold sea. 

The rapidly dropping temperature, it was then 
the last week of June and the middle of the Ant- 
arctic winter, served to remind us that we might 
expect a colder and perhaps stormier time of it 
than on the passage out when we rounded Cape 
Horn in the middle of the southern summer. One 
thing that would be in our favor, and all of the 
old sailors mentioned this, was the fact that for 
the most part we would have fair winds, the pre- 
vailing storms coming from the west, sweeping 



DRIVING SOUTHWARD 317 

eastward along the edge of the Antarctic Conti- 
nent, Cape Horn shoving its nose into the very 
center of the storm path. 

The sting of the cold, crisp nights, as we in- 
creased our latitude, warned us that we were in 
for weather not far ahead. The Kanakas became 
more and more inert at each drop in temperature. 
They were so poorly provided for in the way of 
warm clothing that all hands dug into chest and 
bag, contributing from wardrobes none too large. 
The Kanaka boys did everything they could to 
show their gratitude. Our two of the port watch 
worked at the bilge pumps each night until they 
were utterly done. "It keeps them warm, and 
no one died working yet," said Brenden. "As 
long as they keep going they're still alive," added 
Australia, and this was true enough, so we were 
ready to accept their sacrifice at the back-breaking 
Ijob. 



CHAPTER XXVI 

CAPE HORN AGAIN 

AS the strength of the winds increased and 
we were mostly always before it, Captain 
Nichols concluded the ship would sail better if 
she was a trifle further down by the stern. We 
had loaded on an evener keel in Honolulu than 
on the passage out and now it was decided by 
the skipper to shift some weight aft. This was 
done by breaking out two hundred bags of sugar 
from the fore part of the hold and dragging it 
aft to the extreme end of the lazarette. The 
weight shifted, about fifteen tons, certainly made 
her steer better than before. 

On June twenty-third we rove off a new main 
tops'l halyard purchase, and overhauled the tops'l 
tye. The weather was getting more and more 
severe, and we ran before it under fore lower 
tops'l, close reefed fores'l, reefed main upper 
tops'l, main lower tops'l, and mizzen lower tops'l, 
all other sail being on the yards and furled with 
the exception of fore topmast stays'l and jib, both 

318 



CAPE HORN AGAIN 319 

hauled amidships as a precaution against broach- 
ing to. The seas rose gradually and the ship 
rolled heavily. On June twenty-fifth our cargo 
shifted in the fore part of the 'tween deck, giving 
us a nasty list to leeward of about five degrees, 
and all hands were called at two in the mid watch 
to trim cargo. This was a devil of a job, except 
that it was warm, and kept us steadily employed 
for a stretch of twelve hours with only a short 
spell for grub. Captain Nichols himself came 
into the 'tween decks, and later on Mr. Zerk, my- 
self and two of the men, Frenchy and Axel, if 
I remember right, went through the lower hold 
on top of the heaped-up sugar, where the sweet, 
sticky smell, slightly sour, mingled with the odors 
of the riled-up bilge, and the complaining of the 
hull. I carried a lantern and the rays, against 
the knees and beams, cast weird shadows. The 
hold was a fearsome place, pitching and rolling 
as if in mortal agony. 

We found it increasingly necessary to keep the 
pumps going as the water worked in rapidly when 
running. A ship under such conditions of wind 
and sea is alternately lifted with her midship sec- 
tion carried on the back of a roller, her ends more 
or less tending to droop, or she is in the trough 
between two wave crests with her ends buried and 



320 UNDER SAIL 

the midship section hanging. Oftentimes a poorly 
built craft becomes "hogged," that is, the midship 
is permanently lifted up and her sheer thrown 
out. 

A constant repetition of stresses such as we 
were experiencing on the Fuller^ made intense 
by the dead weight of the cargo and the urge 
of the masts carrying their spread of sail, is bound 
to result in damage to the vessel. While working 
in the hold, the complaining of her timbers seemed 
worse than ever before on the voyage. We often 
wondered if she was going to pieces, as indeed 
many unreported ships have done. The sensa- 
tion below gave one an impression of being at sea 
on a very uncertain proposition; a great leaky 
wooden box, with every solitary frame, scantling, 
hook, knee, and plank, complaining bitterly at the 
hard fate that had wrought them in the shape of 
a ship. 

"I wish the bloody owners was down here for 
a day or two," said Old Smith, as we were shift- 
ing cargo in the hold, and I heartily agreed with 
him. 

A few days later, when on deck, we forgot the 
forbidding pandemonium below; purposely for- 
got it, as so many people do with other things, 
and, as the ship did not wrack herself to pieces 



CAPE HORN AGAIN 321 

that voyage, we at least were saved a lot of un- 
necessary worry. 

On July first we were still plowing before it 
under reefed canvas. All work on deck was at 
a standstill except that required for sailing the 
ship, and by way of exercise and safety, the 
"farmers" dragged the "bear." Cape pigeons 
were everywhere and we caught a number of 
them for their wings by trailing a fish line over- 
board and hooking them. These birds are beau- 
tifully marked and when taken on deck invariably 
vomit their dinners ; it almost looks as though the 
motion of the ship made them seasick. High over- 
head gray molly-hawks and fulmar gulls soared 
white-bellied and noisy against the leaden sky. 

Oil bags were trailed over the side as the high 
seas surged past us like race horses, their white 
crests crinkling dangerously under our transom, 
and along the full sweep of the bulwarks, slop- 
ping aboard as we rolled, filling the gangways 
and main deck with tons of cold, blue water. 
Often, at the braces, we would be buried in these 
seas, a strange sensation that for the moment, 
as the weight of water lifted the feet from the 
deck, gave one the sensation of being detached 
from the ship, of being out in the midst of it all 
thousands of miles from shore; a funny feeling 



322 UNDER SAIL 

is this, entirely devoid of fear, though, of course, 
one held on like blazes to whatever was most 
handy, usually the pin rail or other substantial 
deck fitting. 

Much has been written about the height of 
waves, and as we approached the southern limit 
of our course and headed to the east, well below 
the parallel of Cape Horn, we got the full benefit 
of those constant westerly winds that blow around 
the world. Here the heaviest straight line gales 
are to be met with and the great fetch of deep 
water helps to produce magnificent waves of the 
first magnitude. 

Lecky, in his "Wrinkles," a book no sailor 
should be without, and a book no lover of the 
sea who likes to "be up" on things nautical should 
neglect to read, quotes Mr. Thomas Stevenson 
as the authority for an empirical formula that 
approximates the possible maximum height of 
waves, the same being considered as a function 
of the "fetch." 

This is given as a matter of interest, for work- 
ing it backward it shows how tremendous the sea 
spaces through which the rollers that followed us 
had their being. The Stevenson formula is as 
follows : 

Height of wave in feet equals the square root 



CAPE HORN AGAIN 323 

of the "fetch" in nautical miles multiplied by the 
constant 1.5. 

Or, backward: the distance a wave has come 
equals its height, divided by 1.5, and the quotient 
squared. 

As the wind increased in strength the waves 
mounted until immense billows were formed that 
measured from 50 to 60 feet in a vertical line 
from hollow to crest. This was easily determined 
by mounting the shrouds and watching until the 
ship was in the trough, then noting the height of 
eye on a level with the wave crests. In reversing 
the Stevenson formula we find that for a 60-foot 
wave a fetch of at least 1,600 miles is neces- 
sary.* 

* Dr. G. Schott, as the result of studying the form and height of 
sea waves, claims that under a moderate breeze their velocity was 
24.6 feet per second, or 16.8 miles per hour, which is about the 
speed of a modern sailing vessel. (Some speed!) As the wind 
rises, the size and speed of the waves increase. In a strong breeze 
their length rises to 260 feet and their speed reaches 36.0 to 36.4 
feet per second. Waves the period of which is 9 seconds, the 
length 400 or 425 feet, and the speed 28 nautical miles per hour, 
are produced only in storms. During a southeast storm in the 
southern Atlantic, Dr. Schott measured waves 690 feet long, and 
this was not a maximum; for in latitude 28 degrees south and 
longitude 39 degrees west, he observed waves of fifteen seconds' 
period, which were 1,150 feet long with a velocity of 78.7 feet per 
second, or 46% nautical miles per hour. Dr. Schott does not think 
that the maximum height of the waves is very great. Some ob- 
servers have estimated it at 30 or 40 feet in a wind the force of 



324 UNDER SAIL 

Enough sail had to be carried to give the ship 
ample steerage way when the walls of rushing 
water passed us, for incredible as it may seem 
to those who have not had the experience, the 
waves of the sea run at a speed far greater than 
anything afloat that sails. The tidal wave, theoret- 
ical at least, must have a speed of one thousand 
miles per hour in order that the tides may follow 
the attraction of the moon and girdle the earth 
each twenty- four hours ; some speed even in these 
days of rapid travel. Here we have a vertical 
translation of motion and not a horizontal shift- 
ing of water at that terrific speed. In the sea 
waves caused by wind friction, there is also sim- 
ply a translation of up and down motion, except 

which is represented by 11 on the Beaufort scale (the highest 
number of which is 12) ; and Dr, Schott's maximum is 32 feet. 
He believes that in great tempests waves of more than 60 feet are 
rare, and even those of 50 feet are exceptional. In the ordinary 
trade winds the height is 5 or 6 feet. The ratio of height to length 
is about 1:33 in a moderate wind, 1:18 in a strong wind, 1:17 in a 
storm; from which it follows that the inclination of the waves is 
respectively about 6, 10, and 11 degrees. The ratio to the height 
of the waves to the force of the wind varies greatly. — Scientific 
A merican. 

Note on Above by Author. — It would seem that the late Dr. 
Schott, if quoted correctly^ did not consider the "fetch" as an 
element in the process of wave formation at sea; but his maximum 
waves were observed at a point where there was plenty of sea 
room. 



CAPE HORN AGAIN 325 

for the rearing crest ; if the sea waves moved bod- 
ily it would be extremely dangerous to live near 
the seashore and the coasts would soon be worn 
away; also, ships would not dare venture upon 
the ocean. 

This statement about the possible destructive 
effect of the sea waves were they to move bodily 
started one of the hottest arguments ever con- 
tested in the fo'c'sle of the Fuller, Tired and 
worn as we were, the greater part of an after- 
noon watch below was taken up in assailing my 
position. Australia could not see that I was 
right; even my staunch pal Frenchy doubted it. 
Finally I brought out my trusty "Wrinkles in 
Practical Navigation" by that sailor's friend, the 
late Captain S. T. S. Lecky, who added laurels 
to the name of the English merchant sailor that 
will never fade, and put them all to rout. The 
passage on Great Sea Waves is worth giving, 
and I here include it. 

"The term 'Great Sea Wave' is used in con- 
tradistinction to 'Great Earth Wave,' which lat- 
ter is the name given to the disturbance experi- 
enced on land. 

"An earthquake may have its center of impulse 
either inland or under the bed of the ocean. In 
the first case, when the 'Great Earth Wave,' or 



326 UNDER SAIL 

superficial undulation, coming from inland, 
reaches the shores of the sea (unless these be 
precipitous, with deep water) it may lift the water 
up, and carry it out on its back, as it were; for 
the rate of transit of the shock is sometimes so 
great that the heap of water lifted up has not 
time to flow away toward the sides. 

"At Arica, in Peru, and other places, this sud- 
den going out of the sea has made bare the bot- 
tom of the bay, and left ships aground which 
only a few minutes before were riding quietly 
at anchor in several fathoms of water. 

"As soon as the shock is over, the body of water 
thus forced out to sea returns as a huge wave, and, 
on approaching a sloping shore, rears up like a 
wall, and breaks with overwhelming force. Some- 
times, however, its volume, height, and velocity 
are so great that it comes ashore bodily, and 
breaks far inland, causing even greater destruc- 
tion to life and property. At Ai-ica, the Wateree 
— a 'double-ender' belonging to the United 
States Navy — was carried inland quite a dis- 
tance by the reflux, and remained as evidence 
for many years. If the v/riter's memory is not 
at fault, she was carried clean over the railway 
embankment. 

"When the seat of the disturbance is beneath 



CAPE HORN AGAIN 327 

the ocean, the 'Great Sea Wave' rushes in upon 
the land as before — with this difference, that it 
is not preceded by the water retiring from the 
foreshore, as in the first case. . . . 

"About the most notable instance of a 'Great 
Sea Wave' occurred during the stupendous and 
ever-memorable eruption in August, 1883, which 
had for its center the Island of Krakatoa, in the 
Straits of Sunda. On this occasion the loss of 
life amounted to 37,000, caused chiefly by the 
sea waves, one of which attained the almost in- 
credible height of 135 feet. Its effects were 
traced to all the principal tide gauges of the 
world, and were even observed at Havre, some 
11,000 miles from the source of origin. 

*'A full account of this eruption, which was 
investigated in detail by committees and sub-com- 
mittees of the Royal Society, comprising many 
of the leading scientists of the day, has been pub- 
lished in a volume of nearly 500 quarto pages, 
under the editorship of Mr. G. T. Symons. In 
this book every branch of the phenomenon and 
its effects have been most thoroughly dealt with, 
and is consequently well worth perusal." 

What Captain Lecky has said may well cause 
us to pause and wonder how a "Great Sea Wave" 



328 UNDER SAIL 

would affect Coney Island of a hot Sunday in 
midsummer. 

However, on the ship Fuller, to get back to our 
muttons, we thought of no Coney Island. We 
were very much at sea, and thankful for the 
fact that the waves could grow no larger. For 
it is a fact that the rapid rate of progress of 
waves serves to limit their height, for as soon as 
the speed of the wave becomes about half that 
of the speed of the wind the accelerating effect 
of the wind action remaining is absorbed by the 
friction of the water particles, and the waves 
are at their maximum. 

We had a splendid opportunity to study the 
waves, and it was with a never-failing fascina- 
tion that I always looked for the occasional group- 
ing of three or four large rollers, rising above 
the rest, due to a piling up because of differences 
in rate of progress. On the ships of an earlier 
day, the fear of being "pooped" was always up- 
permost in the minds of timid helmsmen, but on 
the Fuller we were protected in a measure by the 
wheelhouse. This structure, right aft against 
the taffrail, served as a shelter, and at the same 
time housed the tiller, the tiller shackles, and the 
relieving tackles. The fore part was given over 
to the wheel and was quite fancy, immaculate 



CAPE HORN AGAIN 329 

white gratings under foot, bright wood panelling 
inside and brass fittings wherever possible. A 
slicing shutter overhead was thrown back, when 
on the wind, to allow the helmsman a sight of 
the weather cloth of the mizzen skysail. Just for- 
ward of the binnacle, and taking in the whole 
front of the wheeihouse, was a window fitted with 
sliding shutters. At least one of these was al- 
ways open, for the officer of the deck never came 
into the wheeihouse when on duty, merely shout- 
ing his orders to the man at the helm. The good 
sense that finally provided wheelhouses on sailers 
was amply justified. Comparative warmth and 
protection from wind and sea helped just that 
much in steering, and a far better course was 
held through the long, strenuous watches of heavy 
weather. The wheeihouse was always one of 
the most comfortable spots aboard ship. 

To my mind, steering was a lot of fun. This 
was specially so in good lively weather. The 
direct pull of the rudder, the "kick" and the 
"feel" of the ship never failed to thrill me with 
a sense of power. Just as handling "the stick" 
on a good able boat in fine brisk weather is a 
sport of never-ending delight, so the trick at the 
wheel aboard the Fuller always made me feel that 
I was the man who sailed the ship. 



330 UNDER SAIL 

The pointer by old Bo'sun Dreiliek, of the St, 
Mary's^ and now of the Newport, that ancient 
mariner of many, many voyages, filled with the 
accumulated wisdom of the seven seas, stood me 
in good stead. "When at the wheel, work the 
ship in your mind as if you had charge of the 
watch," was his advice. Doing this aboard the 
Fuller with such a consummate sailor as Mr. 
Zerk in charge was an instructive exercise. Dur- 
ing daytime tricks I could see where sails needed 
trimming, or where a shift of canvas would help 
her, and would often have ever5rthing settled in 
my mind before the mate would notice things. 
At night it was different. The least shift of 
wind or the slightest change of weather always 
found him on the alert. To an ambitious lad, 
anxious to master the hoary art of conducting a 
ship across the surface — decidedly, surface — of 
the many wrinkled ocean, this practice can be 
recommended ; the only trouble is that such ambi- 
tious lads are now scarce, and the ships are scarcer 
still. 

Captain Nichols had a pleasant way of coming 
up, especially during the second dog watch, after 
the mellowing influence of a Chow dinner, cabin 
style, and conversing for a minute or two. He 
would let drop a hint as to where we were and 



CAPE HOEN AGAIN 3B1 

sometimes give me sights to work out. While we 
were making such heavy weather of it and the 
wheel was hard to manage, he told a story calcu- 
lated to make me anything but cheerful. The 
ship had yawed and the slap of the rudder sent 
the wheel over against all the "beef" I could 
bring to bear. Then suddenly, when the pressure 
shifted to the other side, the wheel came back 
with the kick of a stubborn mule, and I was 
bodily lifted off my feet, saving my head by 
doubling about the spindle. 

"Look out, son!" shouted the Old Man. "I 
had a sailor thrown up against the top of the 
wheelhouse once and his skull bashed in. That 
was his last trick at the wheel. You better be 
careful." 



CHAPTER XXVII 

MAN LOST OVERBOARD 

AT this stage of the voyage hardship had 
become a habit; rotten tack and half- 
cooked cracker hash all went the same way; we 
were toughened to the grind. A mess of weevil- 
ridden hard bread was disposed of by knocking 
the worms out and eating what was left, the 
crumby, mealy stuff, soggy with damp, was often 
made more palatable by heating in the galley with 
a sprinkle of molasses or a coating of our abun- 
dant sugar. Tlie working of the ship was done 
in grilling discomfort of wet clothing, and the 
cold added its quota to our troubles day after 
day. But for all that we were living. The scenes 
of wild fury that only those who have run before 
it in the latitudes of Cape Horn can understand, 
spread about us in a fitting panorama to the trag- 
edy of suffering on our half -drowned deck. Sure- 
ly the angels must have wondered at the vast am- 
bition of men who dared such dangers and lived 
such hardships ; all of which vast ambition could 

332 



MAN LOST OVERBOARD 333 

be summed up in one sentence — the pay of an 
able seaman out of the port of New York — eigh- 
teen dollars per month, minus "advance" and the 
deduction for "slops," leaving the net earning in 
the neighborhood of ten or eleven dollars. 

We were getting our romance in the raw, how- 
ever, and, like most things in this world, we were 
paying for the show — working our way — through 
experiences that only those who go down to the 
sea in deepwater sailing ships know anything 
about. 

Endless rows of mighty snarling combers, the 
howl of sleet-laden wind tearing through the 
glistening gear aloft, and the blind rush of snow- 
storms, crusting everything with a powdering of 
white, gave us a real taste of weather such as 
I had never experienced before. 

"Thank God we are going before it, and not 
trying to beat back," said Hitchen to me one 
night, as he came aft to relieve me at the wheel. 

John Aahee, of the starboard watch, disap- 
peared and we thought he had been lost over- 
board. For two days we missed him and kept 
the news from Black Joe and Kahemuku, who 
were in a state of low spirits, where the loss of 
Aahee would have well-nigh proved fatal. On 
the third day after the absence of John he sud- 



334 UNDER SAIL 

denly reappeared, when the boys of our watch 
heard a loud knocking on the under side of the 
forehatch. Having enjoyed a two days' sleep 
on the sugar in the 'tween deck, he climbed in 
by way of the forepeak, which had been opened 
in order to rouse up a barrel of saltpork. 

The mate threatened to put him in irons for 
shirking duty and promised all sorts of dire pun- 
ishment. However, the poor Kanaka was so far 
gone that it seemed he never would survive, and 
I believe he was positively numb when the mate 
made him finish out the last two hours of the 
watch on deck by bending over the bilge pump, 

"to get the sleep out of your eyes, you 

black." 

July Fourth found us nearing the end of our 
southing. We experienced a moderation in the 
weather, and set the fore and main t'gans'ls. The 
fore t'gans'l split during a squall that blew up 
before it had been set an hour, and we at once 
got busy in sending down this rag and bending 
another sail which went with a loud "bang!" dur- 
ing the mid watch. Second Mate Tom being on 
deck and Captain Nichols pacing up and down 
on the forward side of the wheelhouse. 

"There she goes again!" we heard them shout- 
ing out on deck, amid the din of wind and the 



MAN LOST OVEKBOARD 335 

booming of the seas as they fanned away from 
the flare of our bows, when her head doused down 
into the back of a roller. The report as the new 
canvas split was sharp and characteristic, waking 
most of us, as it was directly overhead. 

"I hope they don't call us out," was the thought 
expressed by all ; we plunked down in our blank- 
ets with a will as though we were going to wring 
every last fraction of sleep out of each precious 
second of the few hours of the watch. 

Our days were becoming more than merely 
strenuous, they were of that dead level of sus- 
tained hardship where the senses cease to regis- 
ter the added kicks, but go on in a sort of merci- 
ful anesthesia, no doubt brought about by the 
toxic action of prolonged fatigue. 

On the glorious Fourth, Chow had spread him- 
self to the extent of favoring the fo'c'sle mess 
with two large pans of gingerbread, nicely cut 
into squares, so that everyone would get his law- 
ful whack. This gingerbread was a special stunt 
in baking such as I have never seen its like be- 
fore or since. The top crust was flexible, and 
leathery, of a deep seal brown. The bottom was 
hard and usually well burnt. By grabbing the 
top crust and the bottom, the middle portion 
could be made to stretch at least twice its size and 



336 UNDER SAIL 

then broken apart, but long strings like cobwebs 
would connect the two halves. We blamed it for 
the boils that appeared on most of us toward the 
end of each passage, for Chow liked to bake it, 
and we had it at least once a week or oftener. 

Poor Frenchy was taken sick during those dis- 
mal days, and when he mustered aft one dog 
watch, and promptly swooned, we picked our 
shipmate up and carried him to his bunk with 
heavy hearts. If gloom, could kill a man, Frenchy 
would have cashed in his record during the next 
few days. The fo'c'sle was as sad a hole as a 
man could think of. Captain Nichols came for- 
ward and examined Frenchy during our watch 
on deck. This was a sort of concession to the 
proprieties, as he only came forward of the 
main hatch one other time on the voyage that 
I can recall. After his professional visit the 
steward called me aft and handed me a large 
tumbler full of a dark liquid called "black draft" 
by Australia; it had marvelous cathartic power. 
I was instructed to give this to Frenchy at one 
dose. What it did to him in his weakened state 
can be imagined. 

The next day the mate came to the fo'c'sle and 
examined the sick man and reported aft. Frenchy 
had said he was much better, which was a lie, 



MAN LOST OVERBOARD 337 

but a wise one. I then prevailed upon Chow to 
give me some cabin stew that he was preparing, 
and with this under his belt and a hook pot of 
coffee, cabin style, Frenchy felt better. I also 
broke out a set of brand-new underwear that I 
had been saving against an emergency. It was 
extra heavy, and with this on him and the good 
food, he felt like a new man. Chow fed Frenchy 
for three days, and fed him well, after I had 
prevailed upon Chips to give him the parrot, 
Jake. Fortunately Frenchy recovered before 
Jake got in his fine work in the galley, for in 
less than a week the latter was back under the 
fo'c'sle head again, having started his talk about 
"to hell with the grub," etc. This was more than 
Chow could stand, and one night his cage shot 
out of the lee door of the galley amid a series 
of quirks and screeches, and Fred rescued the 
bird from a comber that was about to curl over 
the bulwark. 

Our precautions in the way of preventer gear 
and rolhng tackles were employed as on the pas- 
sage out, and the relieving tackles were hooked 
to the tiller in the after wheelhouse. Captain 
Nichols also had two heavy hawsers bighted about 
the base of the mizzen mast and flaked down on 
the cabin top ready to pay out through the quar- 



338 UNDER SAIL 

ter chocks should we by any chance broach to. 
At the end of these we had constructed two im- 
provised sea anchors or drags. Under ordinary 
circumstances we would have been hove to in such 
weather as we were having, but the wind was 
fair and the captain determined to run before 
it as long as possible. 

Discomfort and hardship on board were not 
altogether confined to the fo'c'sle. The after 
cabin was washed out a number of times and the 
mate was swamped by the seas backing up in 
the waist and running over the sills of the cabin 
doors. Mr. Zerk was much less violent during 
the stormy days. The hard drive to the south and 
east put a feeling of common danger into the 
minds of all; it had a very beneficial effect. So 
far as the psychic aspects of the voyage went, we 
were happy. 

Also, we were, with the possible exception of 
Black Joe and Kahemuku of our watch, and the 
unfortunate Aahee of starboard, a very ready and 
smart crowd. When I say possible exception in 
referring to the Kanakas I mean that these un- 
happy people were always running with the 
crowd, and while always in the way they bent 
what beef they had to any gear we might be haul- 
ing on. Sailors have a weird wail, or dirge, with- 



MAN LOST OVERBOARD 339 

out words, to which they sway at brace or hal- 
yards and Black Joe became proficient in this, 
throwing his whole spirit into the thing. Even in 
those days of actuality the perfect picture of 
glistening oilskins and the splashing sea, with the 
human cry of labor mounting above the snap of 
the storm, was driven home to me — and I was 
mighty wet and tired, too. 

On July tenth we were still going large before 
a heavy sea. Second Mate Tom was on deck in 
the afternoon watch and, the wind having mod- 
erated some, his crowd were aloft shaking the 
reef out of the fore upper tops'l. Aahee was on' 
the lee yardarm and as the sail dropped a squall 
of wind slapped along suddenly, and he, holding 
on to the jackstay with all of his might, turned 
a complete somersault as his heavy boots shot 
up from the footrope. He was wrenched from 
the yard, his body struck the belly of the reefed 
foresail and dashed into the sea. Some claimed 
he also struck one of the jib boom guys. 

All hands were called and the ship hove to. 
Mr. Zerk stormed out on deck mad clean through, 
and Captain Nichols conned the wheel^ myself 
and another man from starboard being at the 
spokes. A half barrel of oil was broached into 
the sea as we braced sharp and put down the 



340 UNDER SAIL 

helm, manning the lee fore braces with great 
speed. The main spencer was hauled out and 
reefed spanker set while we braced sharp forward. 
Mr. Morstad had thrown over two life buoys, but 
we could not see either one of them. As we hove 
to the seas swept over us with redoubled fury, 
the racket aloft being frightful. We then re- 
alized how hard it was blowing. Captain Nichols 
estimated it at from 9 to 10 on the Beaufort 
Scale,* and the Fuller bore down almost on her 
beam ends. 

To launch a boat would have been madness 
and we watched the sea for a sight of Aahee or 
of the life buoys, all, however, without success, 
as no doubt he had drowned at once and the buoys 
were several miles to windward, while we were 
drifting off faster than they. 

Once hove to we shortened down for the night 

* The Beaufort Notation, to indicate the force of the wind. 

Calm. 

1 Light airs : just suflBcient to give steerage way. 

2 Light breeze. Ship under all plain sail 1 to 2 knots. 

3 Gentle breeze. " " " " " 3 to 4 " 

4 Moderate breeze. " " " " " 4 to 5 " 

5 Fresh breeze. Ship close hauled can carry Skysails. 

6 Strong breeze. " " " " " Topgallant sails. 

7 Moderate gale. " " " " " Reefed topsails. 

8 Fresh gale. ' " " Lower topsails, courses. 

9 Strong gale. " " " " " Lower topsails; reefed 

courses. 

10 \Miole gale. Hove to, under main lower topsail and reefed foresail. 

11 Storm. " " under storm staysails. 

12 Hurricane. " " under bare poles. 



MAN LOST OVERBOARD 341 

under lower tops'ls and storm stays 'Is. The death 
of Aahee was tragic in the extreme; Kahemuku 
cried in his bunk, and no means could be found 
to stop him. Black Joe said nothing, he ate in 
silence, and when we went below he turned in 
without a word. 

They were one less to starboard; only a weak 
brown man gone, a poor piece of hmnan wreck- 
age washed loose from that plaything of the 
storm, a ship at sea. 



CHAPTER XXVIII 

AUSTEALIA^S STORY 

'OLLOWING- Frenchy's sickness, Aus- 
tralia and I chummed together as Frenchy, 
by common consent, was allowed to perch on a 
coil of rope on the main hatch just forward of 
the mast during the night watches, the mate wink- 
ing at this whenever the weather was not too 
bad. 

On such nights Australia and I would stump 
the wet deck and we got to be very good friends. 
Unlike so many of the crew, I remember his name, 
John Roth, and from what he told me at various 
times I knew that he had come from a good fam- 
ily, as such things go, people in easy circum- 
stances. His grandfather had settled in England, 
coming originally from southern GeiTnany, and 
his father had taken over and extended a business 
founded at that time. Roth had received a good 
education, evidently, though he was of a shift- 
less temperament and his talk savored of the 
fo'c'sle and not the schools. He unburdened 

343 



AUSTRALIA'S STORY 



343 








^M^v,JlX«JU 




iMBvncaHKaaMwBOTfiHei 



i 

J 



344 UNDER SAIL 

himself as we tramped the deck and I found him 
to be a charming companion and much deeper 
than was my idea of the devil-may-care deserter 
from the Falls of Ettrick, who had impressed me 
as a sort of scatterbrained ne'er-do-well, when we 
first bumped against each other in the fo'c'sle of 
the Fuller, for my bunk was ahead of his, as we 
settled down in that first mix-up, months before. 

"I'll tell you, Felix, there's lots of blokes who 
have had less chances than me, and is well off 
today. I always got in the way of trouble and 
you bet trouble never missed me once." 

This sounded like something new, so I kept my 
mouth closed instead of replying after the usual 
manner of deck chums making conversation. 

"When my father died," went on Australia, 
after a long pause, "my brother took the man- 
agement of the business. He was in the building 
trade and doing very well at it, supporting moth- 
er, two sisters, brother and myself. My brother 
James had quit school and was helping father 
at the time of his death. I was at school near 
Winchester, much to my disgust, for I hated 
school and wanted to go to sea." Australia 
paused. He was strangely sober and we paced 
on deck for a turn or two in silence. Then he 
continued, and I remember how his words came 



AUSTRALIA'S STORY 345 

slowly but with a long-forgotten attention to 
choice and grammar. 

"On the settlement of the estate of my father 
a small legacy of four hundred pounds was left 
me, and with the business safe in the care of 
my brother I felt at liberty to quit school and go 
to sea. I had an idea that I would settle down 
somewhere with my money and be a gentleman 
planter, or something like that. At any rate, I 
cashed in and, with more money in my pocket 
than was good for me, put to sea in the fo'c'sle 
of a ship out of London bound for Melbourne. 
I'll call her the Iverclyde, that's near enough. 
They shipped me 'ordinary,' and when I handed 
the mate a five-quid note, as I asked for the job, 
he was sure he had hooked a fool, or a lunatic. 
The rest of my fortune I carried in a wallet in 
the bottom of my chest, a place no one would ever 
think of searching for money. 

"The Iverclyde was an iron ship, a wet ship, if 
you know what I mean. We was drowned and 
we was starved, but never overworked. Once the 
crowd went aft and told the mate they wanted 
to put the main topgans'l on her, as she was roll- 
ing so. The mate he says, 'All right, Bo'sun, set 
the main topgallant sail,' and that is the way we 
worked. 



346 UNDER SAIL 

"We ran into Table Bay, with a sprung bow- 
sprit, lifted loose of the gammoning when she 
was taken aback while the mate was sleeping 
against the binnacle. This was my chance, and 
by use of another note, I got smuggled ashore 
with a suit of dirty dungaree and a big bundle of 
damp Bank of England notes, leaving the rest 
of my kit behind. I soon got some decent clothes, 
and put up at the Boyal Hotel. The life in Cape 
Town suited me, I made friends among a fast 
bunch, spent the filthy, and enjoyed the air of 
mystery that surrounded me. No one ever sus- 
pected that I was from the Iverclyde, though I 
saw our captain walk by the hotel once; in fact 
I was very safe there. 

"Shortly after the ship left, I found that I was 
being shadowed. Some bloke was always in my 
wake. I tried to get him and blow him to a dog 
watch of drinks and find out his game, but it was 
no use. When they saw I was on to them, for 
they watched every move I made, and I was 
spending free, the gentleman aft gives the sig- 
nal and I am arrested. It seems that an embez- 
zler was wanted and they had me spotted for the 
game. Not knowing the lay they was on, I 
did not get my story straight at first, thinking 
they was still after me for deserting the Iverclyde. 



AUSTRALIA'S STORY 347 

This was bad. They chucked me in jail and kept 
me there for three months, lifting what was left 
of my wad. 'I say, is this all that's left?' the 
officer exclaims, counting fKe notes. They ex- 
pected to pick up about ten thousand pounds. 

"When the correctness of my story was proved, 
they let me go. I heard that the blackleg they 
was after was caught in Calcutta. 

"Sure, they let me out and gave me what was 
left of my wad. Almost half gone, but then I 
had three months of lodging and tucker free and 
a little over two hundred saved. I was a wiser 
one after that, but I was still a fool, which was 
something I did not find out till later. 

"In order to get away from Cape Town, and 
at the same time follow my idea of settling down 
in some warm climate where a man can become 
a planter and have a lot of blacks do the work for 
him, I shipped before the mast on the Dutch bark 
Java, out of Amsterdam, bound for Batavia. This 
craft had put in short of water and several hands 
who had died on the passage down to the Cape. 
The Java was unlucky. The most unlucky tub 
that ever sailed, except the Flying Dutchman, but 
unlucky enough for any real ship. We winds up 
in a typhoon, a hundred miles west of the Sunda 
Strait. The masts went by the board and at the 



348 UNDER SAIL 

end of the blow, after two days of pumping and 
praying, a steamer picks us up. She was bound 
for Singapore. The second mate of the steamer, 
a young fellow from London, decided he wanted 
to work the Java into port, his idea being Anjer. 
The skipper says 'all right' and he called for 
volunteers. As I said, I was still a fool, so I 
joined five other men and with the young second 
mate we was put on board the Java; I was the 
only one of her own crew and this scared me. 
Them Dutchmen knew when they were well off ; 
and they stayed aboard the steamer. 

"The second mate of the steamer did not know 
exactly what to do. He said, 'We will get up a 
jury mast,' but there was nothing to make a jury 
mast out of. The steamer was far down on the 
horizon when we found by sounding the well that 
the old tub was gaining water fast. After that 
we did nothing but pump. We pumps for the 
best part of a week. I don't remember what we 
ate, or if we did not eat. The crowd on board 
curses our young skipper, and pumps. They kept 
on pumping because we found the long boat that 
we depended upon stove in and all of the thwarts 
smashed. 

"At the end of the week another blow comes 
up from the West. 'So long, good old London 



AUSTRALIA'S STORY 349 

Town,' one of our fellows sings out. 'The hell 
with dyin' tired,' and he drops the pump handle 
and sits down. We all do the same, and the sec- 
ond mate, who took his trick along with the rest, 
says, 'I guess you are right ; we might as well rest 
a bit before swimming.' 

"We rested all afternoon and till late at night. 
I had my wad in a pouch at my belt and each of 
us had two life belts. We ate a little ; the young 
second mate found a small breaker of rum in the 
cabin and we had some of that, and some hard 
bread and a hunk of cheese. I drank very little 
rum; I was afraid of going to sleep. 

''At about midnight we caught the beach. We 
were in the breakers before we knew it and when 
she struck, the sea breached over her and away we 
went. I lost my two life belts the first thing and 
made up my mind to die, but I held my breath. 
Might as well die with my lungs full of air I 
figured as I went over and over. The water was 
warm, and I did not mind it. Before I knew 
where I was, I washed up on the beach and was 
lucky enough to get clear of the undertow. All 
I had on was a pair of torn pants and my belt 
with the soaked notes. Not a sign was to be 
had of any of the salvage crew, and the beach 
for miles was strewn with bits of wreckage. At 



350 UNDER SAIL 

daylight I was met by a man coming out from 
behind a clump of small trees. He was dressed 
in dirty white clothes and had a young beard. I 
told him the yarn of the wreck and asked him 
where I was. He directed me to Anjer, about 
thirty miles east along the coast. I asked him if 
he could give me some clothes. He said yes, if 
I would wait where I was he would be back in 
about two hours. 

"Well, to make a long story short, as they say, 
I waited, being a natural born fool and not know- 
ing any better. Still," and Australia paused in 
his extraordinary tale, "I don't think anyone 
else would have done different. I was so glad 
about meeting this man that I carefully unrolled 
a wet five-pound note and set it out on a rock to 
dry, weighting it with a little stone. I wanted 
to square him for his trouble. 

"About noon my man shows up. He has a suit 
of white cotton clothes that were not any too new, 
a pair of shoes, brogans, they call them, and a 
straw sun hehnet. He also gave me a half loaf 
of bread, after I handed him the five-quid note. 
This took his breath away, so he got reckless. 

"About two miles out of Anjer I was met by 
two constables. They ran at me so fast that I 
knew there was something wrong and before I 



AUSTRALIA'S STORY 351 

could say Jack Robinson they had the bracelets 
on me, and was going through my pockets for 
weapons. They got the wad, and that settled me. 
'Gawd,' I says, 'what am I in for now?' My 
clothes was stripped off of me in the jail, and 
took as evidence, I found out later. When my 
shoes came off, my left foot, for I wore no sox, 
was a dull red, like rust — this was blood. 

" 'You are charged with murdering the keeper 
of the Fourth Point Light !' 

" 'Great Gawd!' I cries, 'what next!' 

"Well, they has me, and no mistake. I am a 
British subject and I set up a roar. The Consul 
was called, and I tried my best to get him to 
believe my story. It was no go. 'Bally rot!' he 
says. 

"I was sent to Batavia, and held for murder. 
Fortunately my story about what happened in 
Cape Town was verified in an unexpected man- 
ner or things would have gone hard with me. 
What saved me was a newspaper story of my 
jail term in that port, my belt of money, and my 
hard luck in being taken for the crook. This 
tallied with my yarn when I gave an account of 
myself, and the fact that the Java had sailed, as I 
said, and the story of the salvage crew put on 
her, sent on from Singapore when the steamer 



352 UNDER SAIL 

arrived, helped me. The British Consul took up 
matters, and by spending the greater part of 
what I had left, funds that were again at my dis- 
posal, I cleared myself. However, in the mean- 
time, my people in England had got the story 
of my being a murderer with full details of the 
horrible deed. It killed my mother, who was in 
feeble health. Nothing of the clearing up ever 
reached the other members of my family and to 
them I am a murderer to this day. 

"I left Batavia on a tramp steamer bound for 
Sydney, a wiser young fellow than ever before, 
also a much poorer one, for I had just two pounds 
in my pocket when I went ashore. 

"My narrow escapes had the effect of making 
me restless. In the next two years I worked 
at every trade and calling that I could lay my 
hands to. I tried sheepherding, I went into 
the bush and tried farming, working as a laborer. 
I worked as a blacksmith in Sydney after picking 
up something of the trade travelling with a small 
circus. In Melbourne I started a very good busi- 
ness in peddling milk. I gave this up as soon 
as it began to pay me and I could afford the help 
to make it easier. Again I shipped to sea. News 
of my mother's death had reached me, and I 
worked my way back to England. My brother 



AUSTRALIA'S STORY 353 

had married and would have nothing to do with 
me. My name was never mentioned in his home. 
Both of my sisters had married and moved away, 
one to Scotland and one to America — Canada, I 
think. Then I went to Liverpool and shipped 
on the iron bark Falls of Ettrich. Now that is 
my story. Rotten, eh? Well, I hope some day 
to settle down, and quit this thing for good. I 
have cheated the rope out of a good stiff by help- 
ing along the murderer with five-quid, and nearly 
paid for it with my own neck ; I almost got mine 
a number of times before and since. If I had a 
decent chance I could make good, if I only could 
settle down and stick." 

"You ought to get married; that would settle 
you, Australia, old boy," I offered, somewhat 
taken aback at the recital, for it was poured out 
from the heart. I knew that a strange sort of 
adventurer was telling me the things closest to 
his soul. What I said jarred. 

"Married? Say, kid, I've tried that game. 
Yes, sir, I've been married twice, and I suppose 
they could jail me for that, too." 

"Twice?" 

"You bet. Once in Melbourne, and again in 
London, when I came home and found I was a 
murderer yet." 



354 UNDER SAIL 

"What happened to your wives?" 

"I don't know. Guess they are married again, 
leastways the one in London is. She was no 
good. Thought I was a rich bushman and 
wanted to get in on the wad. But the wife in 
Melbourne was decent. I should have stuck; 
that was when I was in the milk business." Aus- 
tralia paused, "I hope she sold that for a de- 
cent figure. You see she was expecting some- 
thing, and — oh, rats — what am I saying " 

"Weather main brace!" sang out the mate, and 
in a moment we were tailing to the rope, and 
Fred and Black Joe were wailing in the night as 
we swigged at it. The watch was nearly over and 
Mr. Zerk was working the sleep out of us. As 
for me, I was wide awake. Australia never men- 
tioned his story again, except to say in an off- 
hand way that it was all a lie about being married 
twice. "I just wanted to see how far I could go 
with you," he said. 

Australia was a wiry chap of medium size, full 
of life and a distinct ornament to the fo'c'sle. He 
was never at a loss for a witty retort and his sal- 
lies at the expense of the mate — during the watch 
below of course — furnished endless amusement. 
He always shaved in port except for a diminutive 
mustache, but at sea he sported a growth of beard, 



AUSTRALIA'S STORY 355 

merely trimming this with a large pair of scissors 
such as tailors use for cutting heavy cloth, a mur- 
derous weapon that he carried in a canvas sheath 
nailed to the inside cover of his sea chest. 

Unlike sailors on shorter runs, and that hybrid 
animal, the deckhand in steam, the sailor on board 
a deepwater ship has a sense of home. He occu- 
pies the same bunk for a year or more at a time, 
and in spite of the way he is robbed, or perhaps 
I should say, was robbed, he carried a small ac- 
cumulation of household goods, things that the 
crimps and boarding masters did not consider 
worth while stealing. Every bunk in a measure 
reflected the personal taste of the owner. 

Australia was one of the few men on board 
the Fuller who owned a mirror. When he wanted 
to nail this up under the lamp in the f o'c'sle, there 
was a storm of protest, and the damning imple- 
ment of an effete civilization was again restored 
to his chest. A mirror was only permissible on 
rare occasions when a man shaved; otherwise it 
was taboo. 



CHAPTER XXIX 

STORMY DAYS 

lEGO RAMIREZ ahead, a point on the 
port bow!" This was the news that greeted 
us as we turned out on the morning of July 17th, 
1898. It was Sunday, cloudy, but clear, one of 
the first days without snow or hail since the fourth 
of July. Off to the E. S. E. was a sail and by 
the long time it took us to raise her we knew she 
too was a homeward bounder. 

The morning watch had set all of the tops'ls, 
shaking the reefs out of the fore and main, and 
we were sent aloft to loose the main t'gans'l, 
sheeting home and hoisting away with a will. As 
we raced along under the lowering gray, the rocky 
islands of Diego Ramirez stood out with the dis- 
tinctness of cameos cut against the light skyline 
to the northeast. The breaking and dashing of 
the white frothy seas marked them well and 
served to remind us that we were plowing in a 
fairish sort of a seaway ourselves. Our added 
sail made the riding better and we hove the log 

356 



STORMY DAYS 



357 



after getting the t'gans'l on, showing a speed of 
ten knots. 

As it was Sunday, there was no objection to 



5hIP"5 head N.E;xE. Mar. li Pi E, ISLAND THREE POIWTS 
FORWARD OF PORT BrAM or MORTH ( Magnetic) 




island" BEARING N.N.W. (Mftgnetic) 



ISLAND BrARING 
DISTAMT 4- MILES 



N.v/ (mjneticj 



our doing some sightseeing; I got the ship's head 
from the wheelhouse and went forward and made 
sketches of the island, the first one, bearing north, 
magnetic. This gave a continuous line with a 
cleft near the eastern side. A few minutes more 
and the cleft opened up, showing Diego Ramirez 



358 UNDER SAIL 

to be at least two separate islands. My sketches 
were made on N. ; N.N.W. ; and N.W. 

Australia also got busy with his case of cray- 
ons, for he was an artist as well as a story-teller, 
and his sketch of Diego Ramirez is one of the 
most cherished souvenirs in my scrapbook. 

All hands gazed at that bit of weather-scarred 
rock jutting up from the troubled waters, with 
a feeling of reverence. It was the turning point, 
the high tide of distress on many a hard voyage 
into those stormy waters. Kahemuku and Black 
Joe watched it with a sort of fascination. No 
green-capped cliiFs with white cataracts dashing 
into a warm deep sea as at their native islands 
of Hawaii. Not a scrap of verdure, not a ray of 
hope, only black-blue water and sullen sky with 
between them the primal crags rearing their worn 
heads above the sea. 

Since John Aahee was lost, the brown-skinned 
brothers had merely suffered to exist. They 
talked much together, and Aaliee was mentioned 
constantly. We did our best to cheer them, 
though to tell the truth we all felt the death 
keenly. To starboard they missed him more than 
we. Second Mate Tom was of course blamed by 
the fo'c'sle judges, though he had nothing to do 



STORMY DAYS 359 

with the accident any more than having been on 
deck at the time. 

As we quicldy dropped Diego Ramirez on the 
quarter, we went below at noon for our dinner. 
The day was incredibly fine for that season and 
we made the most of it. We were then tearing 
past the south point and would soon get some 
northing into the course. Cape Horn lay far be- 
low the horizon to the north, and from the prog- 
ress we were making we had hopes of establishing 
a record, for the Fuller at least. We had made 
the run from Honolulu to Diego Ramirez in for- 
ty-five days ; as a matter of advance information 
to the reader, it took us sixty-three days more to 
sail from Ramirez to the Delaware Capes, our 
passage as a whole merely proving a very fair 
one of one hundred and eight days, against one 
hundred and twenty-one on the passage out. This 
difference of thirteen days in favor of going east 
can be attributed to the westerly winds off Cape 
Horn. From this it will be seen that the ship 
A. J. Fuller was not the fastest craft afloat, and 
yet she was far from being the slowest. 

The sail ahead of us proved to be a Norwegian 
bark. We came up to her in handsome style, our 
ensign snapping from the monkey gaff, and as 
her colors went up, we "dipped" in the long 



360 UNDER SAIL 

graceful salute of the sea. The bark made her 
number and asked to be reported. She was 
droughing along at a slow pace under reefed 
main upper tops'l, lower tops'ls, and reefed fore- 
s'l, showing a leg-o'-mutton sail on the mizzen. 
We were then under all plain sail to royals, and 
must have made a glorious picture to the sailors 
lining the sides of the square-head craft. Mo- 
ments like that make one tingle with pride at the 
sight of the colors, a sort of pride that seldom 
comes to those who sail under the flag in these de- 
generate days. 

From Diego Ramirez we shaped a course to 
take us well clear of Staten Land; the familiar 
sound of this name was like home, and I found 
myself talking about it in the dog watch with 
peculiar relish. Old Smith of starboard joined us, 
and told of having run through the Strait of Le 
Maire on the passage to the eastward. This is 
safe enough, though careful skippers like Captain 
Nichols prefer the wider reaches of the Atlantic 
to the Le Maire Strait, dividing Staten Land 
from the larger island of Terra del Fuego. 

As we brought the wind about two points abaft 
the port beam, the sky started to thicken and dur- 
ing the early watches of the night we were again 
treated to real Cape Horn weather. At midnight 



STORMY DAYS 361 

we took in the lighter canvas, reefing the main 
t'gans'l. By eight bells in the midwatch we had 
her staggering under reefed fore and main upper 
tops'ls, lower tops'ls and reefed fores'l, fore top- 
mast stays'l, and reefed spanker. We were mak- 
ing heavy weather of it, the seas dashing high 
over the fo'c'sle head as she buried her nose when- 
ever a big roller tumbled in under the counter. 

There was no warm breakfast. Chow having 
been flooded that morning by a heavy sea. The 
door to the carpenter shop was stove in and poor 
Chips was in a state bordering on hysteria, with 
all of his tools wet. To add to our woe, and 
looked upon as a sign of bad luck by all hands, 
the parrot was drowned when his cage unshipped 
from the hook under the fo'c'sle head and he was 
deposited in the scuppers. He lay there all night 
and was picked up by the starboard watch in the 
morning. Poor Jake, of all the sad birds that 
ever cruised on stormy water, you were the un- 
luckiest as well as the most profane. 

Everything was afloat fore and aft. The fo'- 
c'sle was swimming and the after cabin was also 
washed out when a storm shutter carried away 
on one of the ports. Brenden, Frenchy and I 
were called aft during our watch below on Mon- 
day forenoon and told to swab up the captain's 



362 UNDER SAIL 

quarters. We worked the better part of an hour 
in these palatial spaces, our caps respectfully 
tucked into our pockets. The captain gave us a 
large tin of cabin roast beef, and a half can of 
fine pilot bread, as a reward for our trouble. Of 
course we shared this forward and we had a 
rather elaborate spread that noon — a clammy 
cracker hash which we threw overboard^ hot slops, 
and the grub from aft. 

"Give me meat like this and they can take my 
watch below any day," was Frenchy's opinion of 
the canned roast beef. At about the same time, 
no doubt many of our soldiers were dying of this 
stuff under the hot sun of Cuba, — they called it 
embalmed beef. 

Ramirez is in 56 degrees 29 minutes south, cor- 
responding in latitude to the Wrangell Astro- 
nomical Station just south of Sitka, Alaska, 
When we remember that the Antarctic winter is 
even more severe than that of the northern hem- 
isphere, it will be possible to get some idea of the 
state of the sea through which we were racing. 
Running north between Staten Land and the 
Falklands we encountered a succession of storms 
that were calculated to impress us with the qual- 
ity of the Cape. We were under shortened can- 
vas most of the time, and as the winds became 



STORMY DAYS 363 

very unsteady, we were compelled to wear ship 
frequently, the great seas making it difficult to 
attempt to put her about in the eye of the wind. 

My journal entries follow, covering the last 
two weeks of heavy weather, shifting winds, and 
great cross seas; a period of cold and wet with- 
out parallel on the voyage : 

July 18th, 1898. Wind hauled to S.E. at 
end of day. Yards sharp up on starboard 
tack. Heavy snow at nightfall. Cold. Saw 
some small cakes of pan ice. Wind stronger. 

July 19th. Snow, hail, and ice, all over 
decks. Wind moderate, from S.E. as before, 
veering a point at noon. Braced in yards. Set 
topgallant sails. Overhauled another homeward 
bound bark; could not make out her colors. 

July 20th. No snow today, but very cold. 
Are heading N.N.W. Wheel from four to six 
during washdown, glad to get out of it. Passed 
between Falkland Islands and mainland to- 
day, no land in sight. Wind holding steady. 

July 21st. Colder today. Wind freshen- 
ing. Furled fore and main upper topsails in 
the midwatch. Heading N.N.W., starboard 
tack. Looks bad. Rigged life lines today. 

July 22nd. Wore ship in morning watch, 



364 UNDEK SAIL 

set fore upper topsail and mainsail. Ship un-" 
der fore and main upper topsails and two 
courses, fore topmast staysail and spanker. 

July 23rd. Warmer, but still cold enough 
for my monkey jacket. Weather puzzling. 
Old Man seems worried. Told me we were a 
long way from home; I know it. 

July 24th. Sunday. Wind unsteady. At 
braces most of day. Calm in afternoon. Got 
orders to shorten down to reefed topsails. 
Caught two Cape Pigeons in dog watch. Let 
one go and took wings of best one. Glass 
falling. Got up rolling tackles. Steadied out 
life lines. All hands forward hope the skipper 
has made a mistake. Funny sky to south. 

July 25th. Wind jumped out of the south 
last night. Heavy sea running. Colder than 
before. Sleet in the wind. Under lower top- 
sails and reefed foresail. Running fast. Ship- 
ping blue water. 

July 26th. Running with wind one point 
on starboard quarter. Sea came aboard in mid- 
watch and carried away the freeing ports on 
port side, from mainmast to the poop. After 
cabin flooded again. Colder, hail all night. 

July 27th. Wind abating. Got sail on her 
to topgallant sails. High sea running. All 



STORMY DAYS 365 

hands standing by. Ship yawing badly. Took 
in mizzen topgallant. Blowing up again at end 
of day, started to shorten down. 

July 28th. All hands took in the mainsail at 
six this evening. Called all hands at six bells 
in first night watch and took in foresail. Liv- 
ing gale. Under lower topsails and fore top- 
mast staysail. 

July 29th. We hove to at daybreak. Got 
her around in the smooth and used a lot of oil 
to windward. Under fore and main lower 
topsails. We took in the mizzen lower as soon 
as she came around and set the mizzen storm 
sail. Fore lower topsail blown out of bolt 
ropes at noon. All hands on deck, aft on poop. 
Everything streaming to leeward. Captain 
rates wind at 11. Hail and sleet all night. 
Very cold. 

July 30th. Still blowing hard. Sent down 
remains of fore lower topsail and bent new one. 
Set this at four bells in afternoon. Wind mod- 
erating. Warmer. 

July 31st. Sunday. Gale dropped, day broke 
fine. Set all sail to royals. Warm. Had plum 
duff. Drying clothes. Are making ten knots 
and going faster as sea goes down. Deck wet, 
rigging forward full of clothes. 



CHAPTER XXX 

HEADED NORTH 

WELL, for one I am damn glad we are 
through with it," said Brenden during a 
discussion of Cape Horn weather that went on 
forward as we cleared out the damp fo'c'sle that 
wonderful Sunday following the gales. "This 
makes five times around for me and I hope to 
God the last." 

"How far to Pilladelpia?" chirped up Kahe- 
muku, his face again approaching its natural 
brown, though lean and worn beyond all resem- 
blance of his Honolulu poi-fed chubbiness. 

"Ha! The Kanaka is coming to life!" kidded 
Australia. "Well, me brown brother and fellow 
shipmate, if I do call you that, even though you 
are not white, Pillerdelpia is a long way off yet. 
The walking is bad and if I was you I would stay 
aboard a while longer. In fact you will have to 
ride all the way with nothing to do but work, me 
hearty, work." 

All hands were feeling good. Black Joe hung 

366 



HEADED NORTH 367 

around the galley all Sunday helping Chow and 
for supper that night he was rewarded by a large 
sea pie, one of the bright-red confections made of 
the mysterious "pie fruit." A chemist might an- 
alyze it as a composition of apple peelings, glu- 
cose, acetic acid and aniline dye. My, but how 
good it did taste! The human system demands 
its poison. Folks ashore prefer theirs in the 
most expensive form, while we poor sailors on 
the ship Fuller, on that memorable voyage in the 
year of the great war with Spain, took our wee- 
vils, which are no worse than Koquefort, only 
larger, and relished them. We ate many cock- 
roaches browned in the cracker hash and dandy 
funk, and drank their extract in the tea and cof- 
fee, beverages, so called, for want of other 
names. As for the sea pie, it acted as a correc- 
tive to the gingerbread. When Shakespeare 
asked, "What's in a name?" he had certainly 
never experienced such a voyage as ours. 

Following our dose of weather we entered 
upon a spell of work that carried us well up to 
the latitude of Cape Frio. The gear had to be 
overhauled in all of its details; whips of braces 
shifted end for end, new chafing mats and bat- 
tens seized on to the stays taking the place of 



068 UNDER SAIL 

those worn through, and the slack standing rig- 
ging set up. 

Our own gear, the clothing of the crew, was 
sadly in need of attention and every dog watch 
found the fo'c'sle busy with thread and needle. 
Frenchy was our top notch sailor man at sewing. 
He could ply a needle with the best housewife 
that ever swapped a bit of scandal at a sewing 
bee. He did not use a thimble, but handled a 
long coarse needle, pushing it through with the 
calloused end of his thumb, a simple and effective 
method for those gifted with the necessary tough- 
ness of cuticle. I had alw^ays wanted a pair of 
real seagoing canvas pants such as Kobinson Cru- 
soe must have worn, before he skinned the historic 
goat, pants wide in the legs, and fashioned of well 
weathered stuff, soft and comfortable. My good 
shipmate constructed them for me. They were 
not beautiful, but being what was left of an old 
skysail, a veteran of many voyages, a romantic 
piece of canvas that had swept the starry paths 
on many a balmy night, dew-bleached and mel- 
low, they meant much to me. These pants were 
very homelike, and I never was able to wear them 
out. 

In patching and sewing we managed to do 
wonders with old rags that at first seemed beyond 



HEADED NORTH 369 

all hope of redemption. Also, owing to the near 
approach of the payday, we begrudged the slop 
chest any further inroads upon the accumulated 
wealth that was to belong to us; the sailor's pot 
of gold, sitting so brightly, way beyond to the 
north, where our dream rainbow ended in cynical 
old New York. 

About this time Peter came in for a lot of 
joshing by the men of his watch. He had an old 
long-tailed oilskin coat given him by Chips. Such 
a garment is never worn by sailor men who have 
to go aloft, it being the sole prerogative of offi- 
cers and idlers who never venture above the sheer 
pole. However, with Second Mate Tom on deck, 
many strange things happened in the starboard 
watch, and Peter, the stiff tails of his long coat 
sticking out in the wind, would go up the rigging 
as unconcerned as if it was the recognized and 
proper thing for a sailor man to wear. 

It happened that during a rain squall at the 
latter part of his watch on deck, he was sent up 
to furl the main skysail, and we tumbled out just 
in time to see him going up the weather rigging 
with his long yellow tail sticking out above his 
legs for all the world like a huge pale cockroach. 
At the same time First Mate Zerk stood aghast 
at the unusual spectacle. 



370 UNDER SAIL 

"Come down out of that! Hey you! JLay 
downr Peter heard and obeyed. *'Lay aft!" 
"Yes, sir!" "Hey, Chips!" "Aye, aye, sir!" 
from Chips. "Bring a knife aft. Cut the tail off 
of this. Now!" Chips had trimmed a good two 
feet off of Peter. "That looks fine. Now take 
off another foot, we want to have this fine fellow 
in style." 

When Chips got through, after a lot of sarcas- 
tic criticism by the mate, and laughter by all 
hands mustered in the waist, Peter looked like a 
well trimmed bird. His jacket was so short that 
the drip from its end went into the top of his trou- 
sers. He made a move to pick up the discarded 
tail, no doubt thinking it would do to sew on as 
an extension. "No, you don't!" shouted the 
mate. "Throw that overboard^, Chips! Now, go 
forward, watch below. No, you don't," to Peter; 
"you lay aloft and furl that sail, my fine fellow, 
and show us what a starboard watch hand can 
do." 

Poor Peter lay up in a dismal manner and af- 
ter a lot of shouting from the deck, he came down 
and went below with a good half hour of his watch 
gone, all on account of the offending garment, 
showing that even at sea the correct thing in dress 



HEADED NORTH 371 

is essential; at least it was so in those strict old 
days. 

Officers in the old ships were very precise as a 
rule in matters of this kind. A number of years 
after the coat incident, I was serving under Cap- 
tain Geo. D. Morrison, one of the old-time sail- 
ing-ship masters. We were on the bridge of a 
fine steamer. Eight bells had just been made 
and a quartermaster, an important little man, 
came up out of the fo'c'sle where he had his quar- 
ters, and as he walked aft along the forward well 
deck he drew a huge silver watch out of his pocket 
as though to verify the correctness of the bells on 
the bridge. 

"Great Scott!" exclaimed the skipper. "What 
in thunder are we coming to with sailors carry- 
ing watches? I suppose they will carry walking 
sticks next. But, sir," turning to me, "not on my 
ship! Send that man down to the chart room!" 

When Erricson, the quartermaster, arrived on 
the bridge, I sent him down to the skipper. The 
old man closed the chart room door, he was a 
very religious man, and after a short session, the 
quartermaster came out looking much scared. 
When we got to San Francisco, he was paid off, 
and Captain Morrison handed me an envelope 
to give to the man ; this contained a heavy turnip- 



372 UNDER SAIL 

like object that no doubt was the offensive watch. 

As soon as warm weather struck us, the last 
remnant of our potato bin went bad, and some 
of them were thrown overboard. This ended a 
duty that had helped to pass away many an hour 
for the farmers of the watch when they were sent 
forward to pick the sprouts oif of the spuds and 
discard those that were too bad. Chow always 
picked out the bad ones anyway, and for the most 
part we subsisted on concoctions of half-rotten 
potatoes. Someone, Old Smith, I believe, said 
that raw potatoes were good for the scurvy. We 
all tried eating them. Scouse and the Kanakas 
were the only ones who could stomach the raw tu- 
bers. They always picked out the best sound po- 
tatoes and seemed to relish them ; at any rate they 
robbed the cabin table of a good many messes of 
selected spuds. 

When the old potato bin was knocked down, 
we had a general clean up under the f o'c'sle head, 
a scrubbing and overhauling of the bo'sun's lock- 
ers, the paint locker, and the oil stores. The short 
half deck forming the fo'c'sle head was not high 
enough for a man to stand upright under it, the 
lockers being arranged along the sides up into the 
bow. In the very nose, next to the hawse pipes, 
were the toilets of the ship, that is, those for the 



HEADED NORTH 373 

crew. These were very wet and uncomfortable 
in heavy weather. They were kept scrupulously 
clean, however. Large oil tanks were provided 
above these, fitted with small copper tubes lead- 
ing into the sea alongside of the forefoot of the 
ship. Small cocks provided for the release of oil 
in heavy weather. 

The bo'sun's locker contained everything nec- 
essary for carrying on the marling-spike work of 
the ship, fids, serving mallets, iron spikes, and 
the like. The tar pots were strung along a beam 
in the top of the locker and the shelves at the sides 
held the deck stores of small stuff, marline^ spun 
yarn, rope yarn, houseline, hamhroline, roundline, 
ratline stuff, etc. Several new coils of various 
sizes of rope, untarred hemp and manila were al- 
ways carried in the bo'sun's locker against an 
emergency. Another compartment of the locker 
held the deck tackles, the "handy billys" and all 
emergency gear. This locker also carried the 
straps, rope circles used in attaching tackles to 
spars and rigging. Of such straps we had hun- 
dreds, always in apple-pie order. Small "sal- 
nagees" for clapping a fall onto a stay, large 
three-inch rope straps for hooking the rolling 
tackles onto the mast doublings. The compart- 
ment for blocks was also kept in fine shape, 



a74 UNDER SAIL 

so we could lay our hands on things in the 
darkest night. Great snatch blocks for carry- 
ing a tack or sheet to the main or fo'c'sle head 
capstan, or for taking the fore or main 
tops'l halyards to the same; secret blocks 
for bunt jiggers, a small round block 
about the size of a soup plate, with the sheave 
completely covered, the whip, for it is a single 
block, reeving through small holes in the edge of 
the shell to prevent the canvas fouling between 
the rope and the sheave as is possible in an or- 
dinary block. Clump blocks, small and "clumpy" 
like a roly-poly baker's loaf. These are very 
strong blocks and are used at the ends of the stay- 
sail and jib sheets for the reeving of the whips. 
These sheets, as sailors know, are always in two 
branches and the clump block makes it easy to 
haul the weather sheet, block and whip over the 
stay without catching, as the lee sheet is hauled 
aft. There are others called sister blocks, double 
and treble blocks, fiddle blocks, great jeer blocks 
for sending up and down heavy spars, stepping 
masts, etc. Many of the blocks aboard ship take 
their names from the particular use to which they 
may be put, such as quarter blocks, brace blocks, 
hanging blocks, clewline blocks. 

When we were cleaned up forward, and ready 



HEADED NORTH 375 

for the last long spell of fine weather, with its 
round of marling-spike work, chipping, painting, 
tarring and holystoning, we were treated to a few 
hours of excitement that was different from the 
usual thing of that kind aboard the Fuller, as we 
had a chance to enjoy the show like spectators at 
the rail, and not, as on most occasions, when we 
saw the circus in the same way that the perform- 
ers see it, namely, dangling from the flying tra- 
peze near the top of the tent. 

It was on a wet Friday morning; we were 
scrubbing deck paintwork when the "wheel" sang 
out, "Steamer ahoy!" 

This was unusual, and all hands were aston- 
ished at the closeness of a cloud of smoke that 
was tearing toward us from somewhere to wind- 
ward. Captain Nichols came out on deck and 
got the long telescope to bear. He pronounced 
her a cruiser. 

She was coming for as fast; suddenly she al- 
tered her course fully four points and came in 
under our stern. She was a dirty white, streaked 
with rust, a fair-sized armored cruiser, two fun- 
nels with a military mast between them. 

"Break out the ensign, Mr. Zerk. Might as 
well show her who we are." Indeed, the cruiser 



376 ^ UNDER SAIL 

was reading our name and hailing-port on the 
broad transom in letters of shining gold. 

"She's a Spaniard, one of them has a mast be- 
tween two funnels," someone said. I remem- 
bered this, having in mind the pictures of the 
Spanish ships in West Indian waters, published 
in the magazines while we were in Honolulu. 

"All out for Barcelona!" shouted the mate. 
The ensign went up, and we dipped. The crui- 
ser ran up the Argentine colors, answered our 
salute and resumed her course. 

"Hey, you loafers, get back on that paint 
work; this ain't no Spanish prison!" 

Of course we all grinned at the great humor 
of the joke, and began to rub with our brick 
dust rags; the starboard watch went below at 
once, for it was unhealthy to be seen standing 
around on deck during a watch below. We all 
knew that the afternoon below would soon be 
gone and hoped to stall off the day of doom as 
long as possible. 



CHAPTER XXXI 

ro'c'SLE DISCUSSIONS 

FRENCHY, Brenden, Australia, and my- 
self were told off as a special gang, in the 
port watch, to set up the topmast and topgallant 
shrouds, worked slack by the heavy weather we 
had just encountered. We were in the tops most 
of the watch, as the wind held fairly steady, and 
passed the time pleasantly, yarning as we 
worked ; talking in sotto voce of course, and busy 
as monkeys in a jungle. The tops, as some lands- 
men may not know, are not exactly at the top of 
things, but they are the platforms about a fourth 
of the distance up the masts where the heel of 
the topmast rests on the trestle trees of the lower 
mast. 

The top consists of a platform, semicircular 
in shape, the curved side forward. The topmast 
shrouds are led to the edges of the top, giving 
them a certain "spread." The historic "lubber's 
hole" is to be found in this piece of ship's fur- 
nishing, and one can hardly pick up an old-time 

377 



378 UNDER SAIL 

volume of sea adventure without some reference 
to it, or I should say "them," for there are two 
lubber's holes in each top platform. The lower 
rigging runs up through the lubber's hole, passes 
around the lower mast head resting on the '"bol- 
sters/" which in turn rest on the trestle trees, 
which in turn rest partly on the hounds and on 
the bibbs. The hounds are formed on the mast 
where it is squared at the point where the doub- 
ling begins. Just below this the bibbs are bolted 
on on each side,— now, I suppose we all know 
how it is done. It is certainly as clear as crystal 
to a sailor, who knows all about it already but 
merely likes to read over the familiar names, no 
doubt recalling many hours spent in the tops 
of old-time ships. The pull on the topmast 
shrouds is taken by the futtoch shrouds, iron rods 
running down from the lower dead eyes of the 
topmast rigging, through the rim of the top, to an 
iron band around the lower mast fitted with eye 
bolts, some six feet below the top platform; this 
is the futtoch band. 

In an interesting book called "The Sailor," the 
hero, Henry Harper, "slides" down the futtock 
shrouds to the deck. As he is still going strong 
on page 450 and the "slide" occurs on page 48, we 
conclude that Henry was a pretty tough lad. 



FO'C'SLE DISCUSSIONS 379 

The futtock shrouds run up from the mast and 
out board to the rim of the top. A sailor going 
aloft must go out on the futtock ratlines hanging 
like a fly. This is easy enough and the quickest 
way up. The lubber's hole provides a safer way, 
but as its name implies, it is considered an unwor- 
thy method of going aloft. At least such was the 
opinion in those good old days. 

Where these futtock shrouds pass down be- 
tween the lower mast shrouds is a stout oaken or 
hickory batten seized to the lower rigging. This 
is the futtock staff. 

The tops have been getting smaller as the art 
of rigging has progressed. At one time they 
were very large, affording room for a numerous 
company, the topmen, and in the old days they 
served as fighting platforms for the small-arm 
men. On the old schoolship St. Mary's^ the tops 
were very commodious ; a top chest was provided 
abaft the mast for the small gear and spikes, tar 
and slush pots, etc., that might be required aloft. 
I remember a tired boy going aloft in the fore 
top on his way to the fore tops'l lookout, and ly- 
ing down behind the top chest for a nap. A half 
hour afterward, when he was missed on the yard, 
a general alarai failed to find him, and the ship 
was mustered and every crook and corner 



380 UNDEK SAIL 

searched. Finally another hand was sent aloft, 
and spied the culprit. What happened to him 
the next morning when he was brought to the 
mast can be imagined. 

In the top we were very comfortable, the 
shadow of the lower topsail, and the pleasant 
back draft of the canvas, making it ideal for 
work. We set up the topmast rigging, the bur- 
tons being led to the deck, where the men at work 
chipping iron deck fittings, or scraping the bright 
work, would tail onto the falls when we sang 
out, the mate telling them when to "come up," 
as we clapped on our rackings and seizings 
in shipshape style. 

Aloft with these men I picked up a lot of the 
fine points of rigging. Discussions between 
Frenchy and Brenden were frequent, and not 
often they differed beyond all hope of agreement 
on matters that might seem trivial. Brenden had 
sailed in the Rickmer's ships, the great German 
drivers that hold so many of the present day sail- 
ing records for iron ships. His seamanship was 
of a more modern type. He was the best wire 
splicer in the crew, and gave us many pointers. 
Frenchy, though, was far better on the old-time 
seamanship brought to such a high state of per- 
fection in the sailing craft of the French navy; 



FO'C'SLE DISCUSSIONS 381 

vessels used for the purpose of training their na- 
val seamen. 

Often when being relieved by Hitchen, Old 
Smith, and Axel, the starboard watchers, who 
carried on the work while we were below, we 
would stay aloft with them during the first dog 
watch until our supper was ready, spending the 
time yarning. The second mate never said any- 
thing and we were always careful not to let the 
mate catch us. Hitchen had sailed in the large 
ship rigged yacht Valhalla when she came out. 
She was the finest yacht afloat manned by a com- 
plement of ex-naval men. Hitchen, however, 
claimed he had never been in the navy. We 
often deferred to Hitchen, who was a student of 
seamanship, and carried a dog-eared copy of 
"Tinmouth's Inquiry Into Points on Seaman- 
ship," a learned book going into the intricacies of 
throat seizings, or the advantages and disadvan- 
tages of turning in cutter stay fashion with ref- 
erence to the attachment of dead eyes. 

But most of our knowledge was not to be 
found within the covers of books. An enthusiast 
even then, I retain some of it, still what would I 
not give to have at hand a stenographic record of 
our "gamming" in the broad tops of the good 
shv^A.J.Fuller? 



382 



UNDER SAIL 






; ^ <a wff t^ ^W ' u utNjjtwww'iit njit i iM M Ma^jM ineMHaaaMi 



FO'C'SLE DISCUSSIONS 383 

Of the merits and demerits of various ships 
and rigs we had plenty of tales on this part of the 
passage by men who had served in them through 
long, hard voyages. "The average British sailing 
ship is a disgrace to the red ensign," was the way 
Hitchen put it when speaking of the ships of his 
native island. "She feeds poor, very little is spent 
to maintain her, the running gear is one mess of 
splices before it is picked into oakum, and very 
little work is done. The British 3Ionarch was a 
fair sample of this class of vessel, I wouldn't say 
anything if we did not know how to do 
things better. Take Lord Brassey's ships; the 
old sailers of the White Star Line, in which they 
trained their officers for the liners; these vessels 
are a credit to the flag. But too many of our 
ships are run on the cheap. I don't say that they 
are hard on the crew, in fact they are easy, but 
it's rotten poor grub and no pride. You hate 
them at sea and are ashamed of them in port." 

"The bounty ships are good ; they carry a good 
crew, and do a lot of sailing. Not much laying 
in port. You see they must cover miles to get 
their subsidy from the government. Sailors is 
what the French people want. The pay is too 
little for me. Anyhow, I'm going to quit," was 
Frenchy's contribution. 



384 UNDER SAIL 

"For hard work and hell, give me the Rick- 
mer's ships out of Bremen. Next to the Amer- 
ican ships, they are the worst; regular German 
army discipline on the water. They feed and pay 
better than most Dutchmen, but they don't care 
how many men they kill on a passage." Bren- 
den's opinion was authoritative. 

We all, however, agreed, that the Yankee sail- 
ing ship was driven as hard as any ship afloat, 
and that the grub, in port at least, was the best 
fed to sailors on any sea. 

"Say, if our grub is good, what in thunder do 
you call bad grub?" I asked one day, after one 
of our learned discussions. 

"My boy, bad grub," and Hitchen, to whom I 
had put the question, dwelt lovingly on the words, 
"bad grub" ! "Bad grub is Act of Parliament ra- 
tions of so much, or I should say, so little, meat, 
either salt pork or beef taken from the pickle 
in the harness casks and weighed on a rusty scales 
by the second greaser each day, and given out to 
the crew. So much flour, so much pease, and so 
much hard tack. All rationed out with the whack 
of water, and carried to a filthy galley where the 
unappetizing slops is cooked up in some tropic 
region, and served to the British merchant sailor 



FO'C'SLE DISCUSSIONS 385 

with a regulation dram of lime juice, just cal- 
culated to keep the scurvy out of his knuckle 
joints. That is had gruh. Yes, we have about 
the same scale here, but you don't see them follow 
it so close. The American shipowner knows bet- 
ter, he wants to get a lot of work out of his crew, 
to keep his ship up and to make fast passages ; he 
knows he must feed the gang to make them do 
it without chucking overboard a lot of corpses. 
I tell you, lad, bad grub is a rotten dish, but not 
a rare one. When your meat sours, and the filthy 
flour is full of blue mold, say, you are getting it 
rich then. Did you ever drink sour goat's milk? 
No? Well, bad grub is as bad as that." 

"That sounds bad, but how about the weevils?" 
I asked, thinking he had forgotten our white 
worms. 

"Weevils! Why, weevils are a sign of good 
grub. Grub fit to feed weevils is tip-top fodder. 
See how nice and fat they get. A mess of fresh 
weevils is simply another way of getting your 
game with the taste of white plump meat." 

"You make me sick, Hitchen," I burst out, as 
I dropped over the edge of the top and down onto 
the futtock shrouds. I gained the deck fairly 
nauseated — a near seasickness, a malady that oth- 



386 UNDER SAIL 

erwise never troubled me. My stomach was as 
empty as the famous cupboard, and with the keen 
sea air and the healthy appetite of a boy of eigh- 
teen, I was famished as I went forward to supper, 
but Kitchen's philosophy of food values so up- 
set me that I could eat nothing but a piece of se- 
lected tack, one free from holes that I was for- 
tunate enough to find in the bread barge. 

After that I steered clear of food discussions, 
and tried to forget the whole subject; it was 
hardly worth while talking about anyhow. We 
confined ourselves to talk about timenocleSj, cath- 
arpins, and of the best way to thoroughfoot a 
rope. Frenchy, who had sailed in the Mediter- 
ranean a good deal, told us of the strange craft 
called a yheck, her mainsail having a large button 
in the belly of it, to hold in the bulge of the sail, 
somewhat after the manner of our midship tack. 

We talked of bonnets, and of Jimmy Greens, 
and of the ancient curse of stunsails. These men 
had sailed in the East, and knew the queer rigs 
of the great junks and seagoing sampans of the 
Yellow Sea and the Inland Sea of Japan, places 
I was later on to visit, and to verify the stories 
told me on the Fuller. There were tales of paper 
flareups, and on the part of Frenchy, who had 
chased them in a frigate, of Chinese pirate junks 



FO'C'SLE DISCUSSIONS 387 

armed with stink-pots, and smooth-bore carron- 
ades. 

Of our own rigging, and of what went before 
it, we were of course amply reminded by our 
work. In the older ships, when tophamper was 
not as refined as on the Fuller, the royal yards, 
and higher, if crossed, would be sent down on the 
approach of heavy weather. In some ships, men- 
o'-war especially, the sending down of royal 
yards at night was a regular custom. In some of 
the old Dutch East Indiamen, it was also the 
custom to shorten down for the night, and make 
all snug; a comfortable way of doing things in 
keeping with large well-fed crews, Edam cheese, 
and waistlines of ample proportions. 

On the later ships, the Yankee sailers of the 
day whereof we write, nothing was ever sent 
down. Yards might blow down, but they never 
came down by the free will of the master. The 
extensive use of wire in rigging, and the more se- 
cure type of metal fittings, bands, etc., made the 
old precautions unnecessary. Besides, time had 
to be considered as an important element in the 
profits of the voyage. As freight rates became 
lower, the rate of driving increased, and speed 
was more and more necessary to success. 



CHAPTER XXXII 

THROUGH THE TRADES 

WHILE still in the S.E. trades we started 
our last long drill of all hands on deck in 
the afternoon; the final clean-up for port was to 
be a thorough one. Paintwork was scrubbed and, 
when clean as new ivory, it was given a coat of 
fresh white paint, stroked on with the greatest 
care. This done, the decks were again holystoned 
fore and aft; a most thorough job. We then 
knocked about in the doldrums for a week or ten 
days, and on Sunday, August 21st, we crossed 
the line for the last time on that voyage. 

Ordmarily one might suppose that this last leg 
of the long passage home would be the most 
pleasant of all and that as port loomed ahead we 
would once more feel the genial glow of good fel- 
lowship that blossomed so warm upon our ap- 
proach to Honolulu. But we were apparently 
nearing a bleak coast; a hard material country 
where the sailor man was on a strictly commer- 
cial basis of so little per month, and more men 

388 



THROUGH THE TRADES 389 

than billets ; the crew would go, of course, and no 
one cared how much they cursed the ship, for 
they would do that anyway. The grub was worse 
because it was older; weevils were more in evi- 
dence than before, not to mention other pests 
such as rats and cockroaches, and we were feeling 
the effect of too close associations, a period of 
discontent, soon to change, but at that time most 
trying. Also, it was hot, as hot as it ever gets on 
the sea; our irritation became worse with every 
delay of head wind or of calm. 

Mr. Zerk, for reasons unknown to us, became 
exceedingly brash; he went about looking for 
trouble, and always found it, working us without 
mercy in the heat of the day, and horsing us about 
at night. His relations with the second mate 
were strained more than ever, and some of the men 
of the starboard watch came forward with a tale 
of a big row between the skipper and the mate, 
the sounds having come up from the after com- 
panion ; of course, anything like that would never 
take place upon those well-disciplined decks. 

This succession of troubles had its climax one 
morning when the mate set upon Chips, that 
most gloomy and industrious of all carpenters. 
The lanky one, in returning from the poop with 
the running lights, had through some carelessness 



UNDER SAIL 

allowed several drops of oil to smirch the spot- 
less planks. 

"You dirty low-down bum ! What do you mean 
by spilling that grease all over the deck?" 

"Ay spill nothing!" shouted Chips, his slow 
soul riled to the point of protest at this latest 
Insult. 

"You didn't, hey? Well, I'll spill something!" 
The mate jumped down the ladder from the poop 
and made after Chips, who was in the waist. 
Chips saw him coming, and as he had a heavy 
brass side light in each hand, he was helpless. 
Realizing this, he started to run and reached the 
door of the lamp locker as the mate came up to 
him. Chips turned, dropping the lights, and as 
he faced the furious first officer, that gentleman 
let drive a terrific crack with his right, fetching 
Chips just below the ear, and lifting him clean 
over the sill into the lamp locker. The mate 
went in after Chips and for a few minutes the 
place was in an uproar. The mate stepped out, 
his hands covered with blood. 

We were taking down the gear from the pins, 
after the washdown, and a number of us stood 
horrified in the waist, a feeling of deep repulsion 
coming over us. A big splotch of blood on the 



THROUGH THE TRADES 391 

shirt front of the mate must have come from 
Chips' nose. 

The mate looked at us. He opened his mouth 
as if to bawl some order, or hurl some epithet at 
the men of his watch who had witnessed the bru- 
tal assault. Suddenly he turned round, and 
looked into the door of the lamp locker, a small 
room in the after end of the forward house. 

"Get a bucket of water and clean up this mess. 
It's a lucky thing you didn't bust them lights 
when you dropped them." He was addressing 
Chips, who came out of the door a moment later, 
hobbling to his room. The mate went aft, wash- 
ing off his hands in a bucket of water that stood 
on the main hatch. 

No one said anything, even in a whisper, but 
when we went below at eight bells and were as- 
sembled around the kids, one of the boys spoke 
up. 

"Chips is cleaning up the lamp locker." 

"I hope he reports Mr. Zerk to the Shipping 
Commissioner," I said. "If he does enter a com- 
plaint he has plenty of witnesses. It will mean 
jail for that bully, and he deserves it." 

"Sure, he deserves to be hung," said Bren- 
den. "But Chips will keep his mouth shut." 

"Why?" I asked. 



392 UNDER SAIL 

"If he makes a squeal, this will be his last ship. 
Chips has seen worse than he got, and should 
have kept his mouth shut. He gets forty dollars 
a month, ten more than the second mate. The 
Squarehead's no fool." 

"Well, I call it a dirty piece of work." 

"Right-o!" agreed Australia. "That rotten 
bull ought to be hung by his thumbs." 

While little was said about this particularly 
raw piece of brutality, it made a great diiFerence 
to us in so far as we seemed to realize, of a sud- 
den, that the fo'c'sle was apart from things aft, 
and that it was just as well that we felt a little 
more agreeable toward each other. 

The constant rubbing noses over the stinking 
grub, and the continued driving, with no rest in 
the afternoons, made life anything but pleasant 
while we lingered in the tropics. But the blood 
spilled by the mate, as I have said, clarified our 
atmosphere forward. 

Talk of the days to come again waxed plenty, 
and plans were gone over and over in the night 
watches. In calm, we fretted and fumed, watch- 
ing and whistling for a breeze as though our very 
lives depended upon the blowing of a gale. 
Hitchen, one calm Sunday afternoon, cut a cross 
in the mainmast in order to bring on a wind; as 



THROUGH THE TRADES 393 

this piece of vandalism was done in the second 
mate's watch, and in a place where it could not be 
seen without a search, no evil consequences en- 
sued. 

As on Sunday we got bur watch below in 
the afternoon, word was passed to us of the port 
watch, about the cross on the main mast, and in 
the first dog watch I went aft and inspected it, 
pretending to hitch up a coil of rope that hung 
inside of the fife rail. We lay with our head 
yards sharp up to starboard, and the after yards 
back against the starboard rigging, on the other 
tack, the courses were guyed out by slap lines, 
and as the ship yielded to the gentle roll of the 
swell, the reef points would ripple against the 
canvas in a way that sounds different from any- 
thing else in the world. 

We were speculating upon the efficacy of the 
cross. 

"We will have a wind before midnight," de- 
clared Frencliy with positive conviction, and dur- 
ing the dog watches we talked of nothing else. 

Charlie Horse came out on deck in the second 
dog watch carrying his Bible, with a quotation 
about the wind. "Thou hearest the sound, but 
canst not tell whence it cometh," he read, "for 
the wind bloweth where it listeth." Charlie 



394 . UNDER SAIL 

Horse placed a deep significance upon the cut- 
ting of the cross in the mast. The faithful be- 
came more and more perturbed as the sun set and 
no sign of wind rewarded their belief in the cross. 

We came on deck for the first night watch, and 
it was still dead calm, the sky clear and the stars 
shining with extraordinary brilliancy. A slight 
dew began to settle as the watch wore on and 
presently a sound aloft of the flapping of a sky- 
sail started us to attention. Wind! But where 
from? 

Aft the mate and Captain Nichols were hold- 
ing up wetted fingers trying to feel the direction 
of the airs, that were undoubtedly stirring from 
somewhere. 

Frenchy used a different method, one I prefer 
to the wetted finger, as it gives a more accurate 
sense of direction. He held his hand, palm down, 
and with fingers slightly spread. By pointing 
the fingers around the horizon, the slightest 
breeze will make itself felt against the sensitive 
skin between the bases of the fingers. 

"There!" cried Frenchy, his hand pointing 
broad abeam to starboard. I tried it, and sure 
enough, I felt the slightest coolness between my 
fingers. Indeed our paws were none too sensi- 
tive, being calloused and hardened by many 



THROUGH THE TRADES 395 

moons of hauling at gear, and from much anoint- 
ing in shish and tar pots. Presently things were 
moving aft. 

"Port main; starboard crojik braces!" sung out 
the mate, and we walked the yards around lively. 
The canvas began to belly out, and in a few min- 
utes our hot faces were fanned by a refreshing 
breeze. This was the first touch of the N.E. 
trades, and by midnight we had our yards 
trimmed with the wind close hauled on the star- 
board tack and the Fuller heading well on her 
course toward home. 

When the starboard watch came on deck, 
Hitchen was all smiles, and the wise prognostica- 
tors of both watches were well pleased with them- 
selves. They had got away with it by a narrow 
margin. 

"I predicts that it's colder tomorrow," chipped 
in Australia. 

"We got bean soup tomorrow, I bets," Scouse 
ventured, for in spite of the vindication of 
Frenchy, Hitchen and the others, we let it be 
known that luck was given the credit — luck and 
the cross. Most sailors of those days believed 
certain things, and a cross in the mainmast was 
as sure to bring wind, as a ring around the moon 
was a sign of rain. 



396 - UNDER SAIL 

During our last spell in the tropics, with our 
clear nights of calm, Australia astonished us by 
his remarkable familiarity with the names and 
constellations of the brightest stars. As I had a 
fair knowledge of these from my studies on the 
schoolship, and also had my Leck}^, with the won- 
derfully simple star charts prepared by that mas- 
ter mariner, we passed some profitable and in- 
teresting hours. Even today I never miss a 
chance to glance at the clear sky at night and 
renew acquaintance Vv^ith the great stars of the 
heavens. 

Australia had picked up his knowledge from 
a sheepherder in that far country and knew the 
southern constellations better than I did. We 
all know the Southern Cross, or at least have 
heard of it, and by the way it is not much of a 
cross, though one of the two large stars pointing 
toward it, Alpha Centauri, is said to be the near- 
est to the earth of all the fixed stars. This is also 
a double star, but a powerful telescope is needed 
to distinguish the separate bodies. 

Canopus, another whopper of the southern 
heavens, ranks next to the Dog Star, Sirius^ and 
we never tired looking at these magnificent gems 
of the night as they shone with living fire in the 
clear deep blue of the tropic heavens. As I gaze 



THROUGH THE TRADES 397 

from time to time at the constellations, at Cas- 
siopeia s Chair, the Great and Little Bear, the 
Swan, and the giant Vega, at Orion, Leo, or the 
Sickle, and The Cutters' Mainsail, I think of 
those days on the Fuller when we conned them in 
mute wonder, as sailors have in countless ages 
gone before, and listened to the names by one 
more learned than the rest. Altair! Regulus! 
Aldebaran! Arcturus! Capella! Procyon! Sirius! 
Spica! Antares! Fomalhaut! Achernar and 
Adara! what do these names mean to the modern 
human calling himself educated? Since those days 
I have spent four years at a university, and have 
drilled through the technical course in astronomy, 
given to civil engineers, but I don't recall what 
was taught about the great stars of the heavens 
that we learned to know by their first names on 
that far off voyage. Of the present rank and file, 
who discuss anything and everything smart folk 
busy themselves about, how many can identify 
this company of noble names of the great blazing 
suns that swing across the heavens? 

And black nothingness is also to be found in 
the heavens, in the Coal Sack, a blank space of 
the night sky, near the Southern Cross, in the 
black depth of which no telescope has yet re- 
vealed a star. 



CHAPTER XXXIII 

APPROACHING HOME 

NCE well in the trades we sailed along with 
great regularity, running up our latitude 
with the precision of a steamer. While still with- 
in the belt of thunder showers I had an experi- 
ence that cured me of a habit of long standing. 
I would, whenever possible, if on lookout, strip 
on the approach of a shower while in mild 
weather, and enjoy a fresh water bath. I usu- 
ally pulled off my shirt and trousers, and balling 
themi in a knot would tuck them around the 
clapper of the great bell on the foremast, this kept 
them dry, and left me to enjoy the refreshing 
rain. Of course lookouts were only, stood at 
night. This last time, a beautiful black cloud 
came down with the wind, we were close hauled 
under all plain sail, and it did not look like a job 
that would need me down from my station. Ac- 
cordingly, I stripped and going to the bowsprit, 
caught hold of the fore stay and started some 
gymnastics in anticipation of a real douse from 

398 



APPKOACHING HOME 399 

aloft. It was not long in coming, and with the 
coldness of it, and the look of the white caps 
lashed up under the cloud as it bore down on the 
ship, I felt that I had made a mistake. It was 
hail and not rain that came and while I was drag- 
ging my clothes out from under the bell and get- 
ting into them, I underwent a pummelling that 
left me sore from head to foot. 

Of course we always went barefoot, except in 
real cold weather, and on the clean decks of a 
ship, this has much to recommend it. On the St. 
Mary's the order to go barefoot was always given 
when at sea during warm weather, and on the 
Fuller I found that all hands forward did this as 
a rule. How beautifully simple it makes things 
cannot be imagined, except by those who are 
lucky enough to be able to look back at barefoot 
boyhood days. 

While working up in the trades, we again 
shifted to better canvas, and also got our cables 
up and shackled to the anchors, these being sent 
off the fo'c'sle head and hung under the catheads, 
the flukes, of course, gripped into the bill boards. 

We had a lot of rain at this stage of the voy- 
age, and as the wind was strong the rigging 
would dry out rapidly after each wetting. Ma- 
nila rope shrinks very much when wet, and this 



400 UNDER SAIL 

sort of weather always kept us on the go "check- 
ing" ropes to prevent damage to gear aloft, and 
then as the stuff dried out we would have to take 
in the slack all round. The remarkable strength 
of this shrinking process is shown in the grip of 
lashings put on dry, and then wet just before tak- 
ing up their work. Kafts put together on deck 
and hove overboard are a good example of this 
sort of thing. 

September 10th, found us one hundred days 
out from Honolulu. This was on a Saturday, 
and that afternoon we were permitted to have a 
last field day. Also we sighted a steamer, a wel- 
come indication of approaching shore lines. 

"Here, Felix, take this." Australia handed 
me a sheath knife that I had always admired. 
"Remember me by it," he said. We were digging 
among our personal belongings, and as Austra- 
lia passed around a number of things among the 
watch, the crowd all looked over their gear and 
there was a general exchange of remembrances. 
Scouse gave me a tintype he had taken in Hono- 
lulu, and Frenchy gave me a handsome pair of 
beckets with turks heads, that he had worked for 
my sea chest. Pipes, and even tobacco, changed 
hands. 

The weather was much cooler, though far from 



APPROACHING HOME 401 

uncomfortable, and as we neared port, talk about 
the future again came to the fore, there having 
been a lapse of several weeks, almost a month, 
following the great revival of interest when we 
had put the Horn safely behind us. Work kept 
up incessantly, and as a final splurge, we 
scrubbed the ship over the side down to her cop- 
per comiposition, and painted her fore and aft, 
finishing off with a white stripe in the line of her 
sheer. As the scroll work forward, under the bow- 
sprit, that did duty in place of a figurehead, 
and the scroll work aft, had been gilded only the 
voyage before, the Fuller presented a very neat 
appearance. 

The brass work lining the pin rails, and aft on 
the poop, was polished to perfection, and every 
last turn and corner was done to the final satis- 
faction of the mate. Aloft we were as trim as a 
ship ever got. No loose ends, all mats and cha- 
fing gear neatly stopped in position, masts 
scraped clean and rubbed with just enough 
grease to keep the parrals from sticking, yards 
scrubbed and painted, and the tops and doublings 
bright as a new pin. We were to go into port 
with the old girl reflecting a well spent voyage, 
for the critical eye of Captain Burnham would 
appraise her, and rate his captain and mate ac- 



402 UNDER SAIL 

cordingly, for he was a most knowing old ship 
manager. 

A week of rains and blows with fair wind was 
followed by a day of calm, a heavy fog settling 
down. We had been sighting vessels constantly, 
schooners and steamers, and knew we were close 
to our port. The old mechanical fog horn, an 
ancient device worked by hand, was set croaking 
on the fo'c'sle head, a job as bad as the bilge 
pumps, and we lay flapping our idle wings in the 
mist. Several casts were taken with the deep sea 
lead; we were in soundings. 

The following day, Sunday, it cleared a bit, 
with a warm sun on the waters, but the wind was 
still up and down and a rim of mist shut us in, 
for our horizon was very dim. 

'^Keep that horn barking!" shouted the mate 
after the washdown. I was on the fo'c'sle head 
breaking my back over the ancient contraption, 
when an echo seemed to come in over the bow. 
The fog had shut down again. 

*'Steamer off port bow!" I shouted, for I rec- 
ognized the deep tones of a whistle. 

*'Aye, aye! Give her the horn!" 

I pumped down hard, and a moment later a 
tug shoved her nose through the mist, a stumpy 



APPROACHING HOME 403 

craft with the typical high pilot house of the 
American tug boat; we were home at last! 

"Where bound, Captain?" came the hail, 

"Delaware Breakwater!" 

"Want a tow?" 

"How far are we?" 

"About three miles!" 

"All right, give us your line !" 

As the tug ranged ahead and took our heaving 
line, we read her name; she was the Atkins 
Hughes, of Philadelphia, 

Droughing slowly through the heavy fog, we 
furled sail and toward noon were at anchor be- 
hind the Delaware Breakwater. A launch came 
out and we found the war with Spain was over, 
the date of our land-fall being September 18th, 
1898. 

We heard of the great battle off Santiago, and 
that the Hawaiian Islands had been annexed. 
Peter and I got the surviving Kanakas, Kahe- 
muku and Joe, up on the fo'c'sle head and made 
them give three cheers for their new country. 
After several starts they did this very well, much 
to our amusement. 

"Where is Pilladelpia?" Kahemuku wanted to 
know. 

"Right up there, Kahee," said Peter, pointing 



404 UNDER SAIL 

up the Delaware. "Now that you are an Ameri- 
can citizen you will have a fine time when you 
get there." 

That Sunday afternoon we sat about yarning; 
anchor watches were chosen, and a full night in 
was before us. We were tired and sea worn and 
a trifle sad. Back of us the hard days of the 
voyage, ahead of us, what? We were soon to 
part and no one mentioned this important fact. 
We were glad, of course, happy to so soon col- 
lect that long looked forward to payday, and 
to carry out the great plans so long in the mak- 
ing. I felt a hollow homesickness that had to 
be suppressed with a firm hold and, as we rested, 
smoking and yarning, I have no doubt many won- 
dered if they were really to act upon the good res- 
olutions so bravely determined. 

Axel and Frenchy joined me on the fo'c'sle 
head and we talked of many things. I was going 
home, but they wanted me to surely write them. 
Both were to ship as soon as possible for their 
native shores. Old Smith was as quiet as it is 
possible for a sailor of the old school to be. He 
sat on the fore hatch smoking. "What are you 
going to do?" I asked Smith. 

"Well, if what I have done before is any cri- 
terion," he said grandly, "I guess I am going to 



APPROACHING HOME 



405 



sea again as soon as my pay is spent and I get 
a ship. China for me next, I am through with 
the Horn." 

The light on Cape May, the twinkle of lights 




WATCHING SHORE AT DELAWARE BREAKWATER 

ashore, and the clear autumn night following the 
day of fog, came as a welcome relief. We needed 
sleep; we were tired and we were on the eve of 
parting. I remember during my anchor watch, 
from two to four in the mid watch, I stumped the 
deck in a highly reminiscent mood. Several times 



406 UNDER SAIL 

I went to the fo'c'sle doors and looked in; bad 
as the drill had been, I hated to leave it. 

On Monday, Captain Nichols went ashore and 
sent out fresh provisions, but there was no mail 
for us forward. Orders were to come soon and 
we spent the time polishing and cleaning as if our 
salvation depended upon the brilliance of the 
ship. The day passed without word, and we kept 
at our brass and paint work until Wednesday, 
when orders were received for New York. The 
Hughes was notified, and on Thursday noon, a 
break in her engine having delayed her, the tug 
took us in tow for Sandy Hook. We found the 
wind favorable off the Five Fathom Bank light- 
ship and set all plain sail to top-gallant-sails. At 
midnight it started to rain, and the wind freshen- 
ing, we were startled by a commotion under our 
bows and found we were bearing down on the 
Atkins Hughes, her smoke pipe sheering off to 
one side of our flying jibboom, and her steam 
whistle protesting in strident blasts. 

We at once shortened down to lower tops'ls 
and topmast stays 'Is, and as we gathered in her 
wings the old ship lay back on the hawser; for 
the last time that voyage she had felt the inde- 
pendent urge of her canvas. 



CHAPTER XXXIV 

THE END OF THE VOYAGE 

GRAY dawn broke to seaward, and as the 
flash of the Navesink Light dimmed, and 
the bulk of the land defined itself in the lifting 
haze to the west, we picked up our pilot. In past 
the low spit of the Hook, up through the main 
ship channel and past the Narrows, we labored 
aloft, furling sail, giving it a harbor stow, while 
Mr. Zerk watched us with critical eyes. 

The day was fine, warm sunshine welcoming 
us, and a strange unnatural brightness seeming 
to radiate from every nook and corner of the 
Fuller — she was groomed, polished, and triple 
polished for this very day. We brought up near 
Bedloe's Island, under the lee of the great sta- 
tue, anchoring shortly after noon. The glitter 
of the tall buildings on Manhattan, and the busy 
harbor scenes, constantly called to our sea weary 
eyes. All hands went forward to a dinner of 
cracker hash, and a pale looking duff to which 
Chow had added an extra ration of molasses, 

407 



408 UNDER SAIL 

black like tar, and a huge can of coffee; all of 
the tack in the bread barge was broken and mealy 
as if it had been searched for weevils before com- 
ing forward. 

"To hell with this grub," growled Old Smith, 
as he filled his pannikin with coffee and lit his 
pipe. "I'm eating white man's tucker tonight. 
To hell with this, I can wait." 

However, most of us were too hungry to wait ; 
but the near approach of human victuals made 
our mouths water. All about the fo'c'sle bags 
and chests were hauled out from under bunks and 
benches and were being stowed. 

"That looks like them!" Australia at the star- 
board fore channels was scanning several small 
boats coming out toward the ship. "I bet old 
pedlar O'Brien is coming out to make me a pres- 
ent of a watch," he said, at which we all laughed. 

"Where are they?" a half dozen got up to 
watch the boats coming out from the Battery 
with interest. 

"Are you going to stay by?" asked Frenchy. 
"If you've got any place to go to, don't leave, 
but stay by." 

"Guess I'll stick," I said, "as I am going to 
my uncle's house. Why don't you stay by?" 

"They make it tough for you if you do," said 



THE END OF THE VOYAGE 409 

Frenchy, nodding at the boats which were now 
coming alongside with a spurt, the runners, for 
it was they, racing to see who would get over the 
side first. 

At that time there was a gentlemen's agree- 
ment — if we may call it such — between the board- 
ing house keepers, in the business of fleecing sail- 
ors in the port of New York, whereby all victims 
were parcelled out according to an impartial 
schedule, so many sailors to each house. When a 
rich deep waterman came in, the boarding houses 
in the combine would each get two or three men, 
stripping them of the greater part of their pay- 
day. When a crew was wanted for a vessel out- 
ward bound, they would supply the men in the 
same manner, taking the advance notes in pay- 
ment for board, clothes, and what not. Some- 
times a sailor beat a boarding master but not 
often, for Jack generally came in fat and went 
out under bare poles, with nothing but a kit of 
second hand slops, as the sole increment from his 
previous voyage. 

As the runners bumped alongside, with a great 
show of rivalry and cheery greetings, for they all 
knew just who was on board, we were treated to 
an exhibition of rapid fire generosity and open- 
handed welcome, by gentlemen of the waterfront, 



410 UNDER SAIL 

men wearing derby hats and stiff shiny collars, 
watch chains, and flashy pins stuck into bright 
neckties. These worthies scrambled up the fore 
channels like monkeys and onto the deck. The 
game was to get a sailor to accept a card. As 
soon as one of the boarding house cards was in the 
horny fist, that man was marked and belonged to 
that particular house. This rushing at first con- 
sisted in a scramble for the most desirable vic- 
tims, that is the weakest and most easily fleeced. 
An evil-looking, pimply-faced runner backed 
me against the forward house and thrust a card 
into my hand. He insisted, and I protested. He 
had a breath that was strong, and told me how 
well his house could take care of me. Good grub, 
a good crowd there, and he even mentioned other 
advantages. He tried to put a five dollar bill into 
my hands. He was most insistent ; finally he saw 
that he was wasting precious time, and darted 
after an easier victim. The runners swarmed 
about the decks, two and three men from each 
house. In the two sides of the fo'c'sle the crimps 
were assisting the men in the final roping of 
their dunnage, bottles of whisky were being sam- 
pled. Some of the men proudly handled showy 
watches, Australia surely got his watch, a big 
gilt turnip which he showed me with pride. 



THE END OF THE VOYAGE 411 

^^See, I got it." 

"How much?" I asked. 

"Only ten dollars— take it off my pay day. 
This watch is worth half of that," and Australia 
winked at me. He had a bottle of whisky in his 
jacket pocket. 

All hands were becoming hilarious. The run- 
ners seemed uneasy, for the Fuller was known as 
a bit of a rough ship, and it was strictly against 
the law for them to be on board. But a pay-ofF 
of close to three thousand dollars forward was too 
tempting to allow around loose in the harbor. 

"No more of this work wagon for me," shout- 
ed Australia. Snatches of song were inter- 
rupted by an order of unmistakable force. 

"Lay aft, all hands!" It was Mr. Zerk who 
came forward and bellowed at the gang about the 
fore fife rail. 

We mustered aft, the shore harpies watching 
us from the sides of the forward house. 

"All here?" 

"All aft, sir," Old Smith answered. 

Captain Nichols stepped out on the break of 
the poop. 

"Men," he began, "the voyage is over, but we 
will lay in the bay and strike t'gallant masts be- 
fore we go under the bridge. You can do this if 



412 UNDER SAIL 

you want to, or you can go ashore now. I have 
found you a good crew, ready, and sober. Those 
who want to go ashore step over to port." All 
hands did, including Second Mate Tom, who now 
stood with his old messmates, after a brief four 
months as an officer aft. 

"Peter, come back, and you, Felix. You two 
stay aboard till we dock. The rest of you can 
go. I want to say 'good-bye' and wish you good 
luck. Be careful where you go and what you 
do." 

As the skipper finished the longest speech we 
had ever heard him make, he turned sharply and 
walked aft to the companion. We felt like giv- 
ing a cheer, but the cold eye of the mate was on 
us. There was a shuffle and hesitation as to what 
was next. 

"Lay forward and get your dunnage, mind 
that paint work when you go over the side." Mr. 
Zerk had given his last order to our crowd. 

With discipline a thing of the past, with the 
hasty donning of wrinkled shore clothes, and the 
ever present tempters, plying them with whisky, 
the crew became a strange, wild-eyed crowd. 
Old Smith, Hitchen, and Axel seemed to know 
what they were about. Scouse was belligerent, 
half tipsy, and wild with the knowledge that he 



THE END OF THE VOYAGE 413 

was at last to step from those hated decks. 
Frenchy, of all the gang, showed the most sense, 
"I am saving all I can out of this," he said. "I 
will ship across to England or France, as soon 
as possible." 

"Come on, stay aboard," I urged. 

"If I do, I'll never get a ship out of New 
York," and he knew what he was talking about. 

Brenden was frankly drunk, soused was his 
condition, and as fine a sailor-man as there was. 
I had a lump in my throat when the boats pulled 
away. There was much hand shaking and wav- 
ing. Peter and I stood on the fo'c'sle head watch- 
ing them row ashore. Scouse got up in his boat 
time and again and shook his fist at the ship. 

Among the departed ones, Kahemuku and 
Black Joe were in tow of a colored mission that 
had sent a boat for them. These poor Kanakas 
had very little coming to them, and they offered 
no temptation to the greedy runners. On the 
other hand, Tommy, for a brief term second 
mate, at thirty dollars per month, presented the 
juiciest picking, and strangely enough fell to the 
lot of the most inexperienced of the crimps who 
picked him up by accident after the struggle was 
supposed to be over as he emerged from his ex- 
alted cabin under the poop. Tom also departed 



414 UNDER SAIL 

from the immaculate decks with a feehng of gen- 
uine rehef. 

"Well, they're gone," said Peter. 

"I wish they were back," I said. 

"Me too," was his reply. 

When the last boat had vanished beyond the 
South Ferry slip, we entered the deserted fo'c'sle. 
The disorder incident to such hurried departure 
was everywhere evident. Small personal belong- 
ings of no intrinsic value, but speaking elo- 
quently of their owners on the long voyage past, 
were scattered about, Brenden's calendar over 
his bunk attracted my eye, and I saw that he had 
carried it along to the last day and had evidently 
made a calculation of his payday on the beam 
over his bunk. Names were scratched over most 
of the bunks. Frenchy, always neat, had left be- 
hind a small canvas pouch in which he kept his 
tobacco and pipe, this was empty, however ; a few 
old burnt pipes, easily identified, were abandoned 
in favor of the more effluvious five cent cigars so 
liberally passed around by the runners. In the 
starboard fo'c'sle, Charlie Horse and Tony had 
cleaned up their bunks before leaving, but Old 
Smith left his a sight. Odd playing cards w^ere 
scattered about, and the smell of whisky, from re- 
cent spillings, gave this austere den the air of a 



THE END OF THE VOYAGE 415 

blind pig. Old oilskins that had been east off, 
by the advice of some of the crimps, were all miss- 
ing. Peter remembered seeing one of the shore 
gang bundle these up and take them, no doubt to 
help outfit the poor fellows again in exchange 
for their advance; not an item seemed to have 
escaped the plundering crowd from the beach. 
The fo'c'sle on my side was populated with 
ghosts; I was glad when the mate called us aft 
and ordered the decks swept down. 

"Cabin grub for supper tonight," announced 
Peter, coming from the galley. Sure enough, we 
were given two plates of corned beef hash, made 
with real potatoes, while some letters that had 
come aboard were sent forward. I was happy to 
learn that my folks were well and knew of our 
arrival, having received the report from Dela- 
ware Breakwater. We were particularly happy 
in all this, but in spite of good news, of good food, 
and our approaching liberty, we were sad. The 
Fuller was peopled with the spirits of those so 
recently departed. Somewhere on shore among 
the twinkling lights that began to flicker as the 
dusk crept over the bay, our shipmates were ca- 
rousing in the wicked city, laying the foundation 
for another voyage of endless hardship and pri- 
vation. 



416 UNDES SAIL 

Peter and I, with Chips, who remained on 
board, were told off as anchor watch during the 
night, each taking a three-hour shift; three hours 
that to me passed very quickly as I tramped the 
decks of memory on that haunted ship, and 
thought of that first night watch when Frenchy 
and I paired off to stump from the pin rail to 
the forward house, and spin our yarns, and lay 
the foundation for a friendship that I have never 
forgotten. 

In the morning tlie shore riggers came on 
board, taking complete charge. Mr. Zerk walked 
the deck but never gave an order, and those rough 
and ready men struck the topgallant masts in jig 
time, lowering the skysail masts so the tall trucks 
of the Fuller would clear the span of the Brook- 
lyn Bridge. How they went rough-shod over the 
decks w^ith their spiked boots, while we had to 
submit all of our shoes to the mate for inspection 
before wearing them so he could satisfy himself 
that no nails remained in the soles. 

By two that afternoon, the topgallant masts 
were lowered and a tug came alongside, making 
fast to our quarter; we slowly headed up the East 
Kiver, past the South Ferry, and our starting 
berth at the foot of Maiden Lane, then under the 
Brooklyn Bridge. The rattle of the trains, the 



THE END OF THE VOYAGE 417 

near approach of the life and hum of the great 
city filled me with a strange wonder. As we 
came alongside at Williamsbiirgh, Mr. Zerk said 
we might pack up and go when we pleased. Cap- 
tain Nichols called Peter and me aft and handed 
us each a letter ; mine was to serve me two years 
later — when I was twenty-one — as part of the re- 
quired service testimonials for admission to the 
examination for second mate in sail and steam 
vessels. The letter read: 

New Yokk, Sept. 24th, 1898. 
This is to certify that Felix Riesenberg has 
made the voyage in the Ship A. J, Fuller 
from New York to Honolulu and back to New 
York, and I have found him to be a smart, 
steady, and faithful young man. 

C. M. Nichols, 
Master, Ship A. J. Fuller, 

I am as proud of this letter now as I was on 
the day it was given me, and with this precious 
paper in pocket, our chests trundling along be- 
hind on an express wagon, Peter and I walked 
up the wharf, two sea-tanned, hard-fisted young- 
sters in a land of strange activity, noise, cobble- 
stones, and freedom. We parted at the Brooklyn 



-418 UNDER SAIL 

Bridge, he going to friends in Brooklyn, and I 
to the home of my uncle in Manliattan. Behind 
us lay one of life's great experiences^ — a voyage 
around Cape Horn in an American three skysail 
yarder, a last proud example of the fine sailing 
ships that once carried the starry ensign to the 
four quarters of the globe. 



CHAPTER XXXV 

THE LONG-LOOKED-FOR PAYDAY 

N Monday, Sept. 26th, 1898, three days 
after our arrival in the bay, we were paid 
off before the United States Shipping Commis- 
sioner, the short interval having worked a de- 
plorable change in the crew. Whoever was re- 
sponsible for a condition so well calculated to 
cause the downfall of the returning deepwater- 
man, has a great weight of iniquity resting 
against his eternal soul; no doubt this respon- 
sibility was so well divided that each and every 
one of those guilty felt that his individual part 
in the great scheme of debauchery would go un- 
noticed. 

I like to believe that all of them, boarding mas- 
ters, crimps, runners, politicians, shipping offi- 
cials, owners, managers, and masters who were 
parties to the fate that befell the men of the 
Fuller^ have long since received their due reward 
in full consciousness of its meaning. Nowadays 
things are managed better, thanks to the greater 

419 



420 UNDER SAIL 

influence of such noble establishments as the 
American Seamen's Friend Society, the Sea- 
men's Christian Association in West Street, and 
the Seamen's Church Institute, on South Street, 
clubs where sailors are given room and board, are 
outfitted, and are able to bank their payday. 
Healthful amusements and recreation are pro- 
vided, without that sanctimonious atmosphere 
that seems to curdle many well-meaning at- 
tempts of this sort and most of the shipping com- 
panies secure their crews through the Institute. 

But in 1898, the deep water sailor was at the 
mercy of the hungry sharks who had full sway 
in the vile business of ruining the souls and health 
of sailors in order to rob them of the few dollars 
earned during a year or more of cruel labor on 
the sea. 

I have forgotten just where the shipping office 
was located, but it was somewhere near Beaver 
Street and the waterfront. I was on hand bright 
and early, anxious to see the crowd. The three 
days of rest and good food, and wholesome 
amusement, those happy days at the home of my 
uncle, had put me in fine condition; I never felt 
better in my life, and I was looking forward to 
a visit with the old gang. I wanted to take a 
trip around the waterfront with Frenchy and 



LONG-LOOKED-FOR PAYDAY 421 

Australia, as we had often planned, and have a 
good dinner ashore, such as Frenchy and Tommy 
and I enjoyed in Honolulu. 

The shipping office, as I remember it, had a 
dingy outer room in which the crew to be paid 
off awaited the pleasure of the haughty officials. 
One must be a sailor about to receive the scant 
reward for a year of toil, to fully appreciate the 
high and mighty character of such minor public 
officers as waited upon us on that bluest of all 
blue Mondays. 

A gruff understrapper told me where to wait, 
and in the course of a half hour the crew, in tow 
of the crimps, appeared on the scene; I would 
like to draw a veil over this part of the story and 
leave the reader the simple picture of the men 
rowing toward the Battery, with Scouse shaking 
his fist at the ship, but realism, which in itself 
constitutes the highest romance, bids me tell 
things as I saw them, and the final tragedy is a 
part of the old days under sail that none of us 
wish to see return. 

I looked for Frenchy, but hardly knew him. 
His beard was trimmed close to his chin, he wore 
his old cap but had on a cheap new suit of clothes, 
wrinkled as though he had slept in them, and his 
eyes were bloodshot. He seemed to avoid me, as 



422 UNDER SAIL 

he hung in the rear of the crowd. For every man 
to be paid off, at least two crimps were on hand. 

All were more or less under the weather, the 
smell of cheap whisky permeated the room, and 
the ribald jests of the crimps, the constant whoop- 
ing up of an ill-sustained merriment, gave the 
gathering a ghastly character that drove home to 
me with peculiar force. No doubt the close ap- 
proach to the money caused the robbers more 
than a passing thrill. A couple of special bounc- 
ers from the inner office appeared when the gath- 
ering became too obstreperous, and I had a 
chance to say "hello" to the gang. Peter was 
there, sober, and wide-eyed with astonishment, 
having come from the house of Mrs. Burdick, the 
good angel of the waterfront. Australia, in a 
new rig, derby, watch, and soiled linen, kept 
bursting into song; not the songs of the sea, but 
some cheap new airs picked up along the Bow- 
ery. 

''I owe them half of what's coming to me," he 
whispered, as if this was something to be proud 
of; a crimp slid up, and he at once ceased his 
confidences; all hands acted as though they were 
in charge of jailers, which in fact they were. 

Brenden, Charlie Horse, and Tommy sat in 
a corner, sullen, and I judge partly sober. 



LONG-LOOKED-FOR PAYDAY 423 

Their attendants were anything but friendly. 
Martin, Fred, Tony, and Old Smith had given 
themselves over body and soul. Smith was al- 
ready promised a ship, to sail in a week, so he 
had seven more days of hilarious living to look 
forward to, and then another drill, around the 
Horn or the Cape of Good Hope; another such 
voyage as we had just passed through. 

Axel and Hitchen were in their old clothes; 
they had seen the sights, but seemed far steadier 
than the rest. 

I cornered Frenchy. "What are you going to 
do when you get your pay?" I asked. 

"I will pay up what I owe and ship for Eng- 
land or France." 

"Better buy a steerage passage for Havre," 
I reminded him, when the crimp who owned him 
closed in, and a bull voice from the back room 
ordered us to line up for our pay. 

My name was one of the last to be called, and 
as I got my pay, something over one hundred 
and twenty-five dollars, with slops and allowance 
given in Honolulu deducted, I returned to the 
outer room and found most of the men gone. As 
fast as they had got their money, the crimps 
had hurried them off to their respective board- 
ing houses. The Kanakas came in, still in charge 



421 UNDER SAIL 

of the colored mission, or whatever it was, that 
had them in tow, apparently the only honest peo- 
ple there, and I bid those simple fellows good- 
by; whether Kahemuku ever got to "Pilladel- 
pia," I don't know; I hope he did. 

Presently I was on the street. The crew of 
the Fulle?' had vanished. I looked for Peter; he 
was gone. I stood alone and strangers passed, 
bumping into me, no doubt thinking me a sun- 
burned country yokel, stranded in those busy, 
narrow streets. 

That afternoon I saw Captain Shackford, of 
the American Line, and was promised a billet 
as cadet on the St. Louis, just returned to the 
passenger service after her brief career as an 
auxiliary cruiser during the war with Spain. My 
service in sail was completed, and I was to ex- 
perience eighteen months, as quartermaster, for 
I was soon promoted, on the St. Louis, during 
her golden age, when for a brief period it looked 
as though the Stars and Stripes were again to 
come into their own upon the Western Ocean. 

THE END 



Printed in the Uniied States of America. 



THE following pages contain advertisements of a 
few of the Macmillan books on kindred subjects 



e LA 

EDITED BY HORACE KEPHART 



Uniformly bound in cloth, each $1.25 



THE GOLD HUNTER 

By J. D. BoRTHWiCK 

HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 
By the Earl of Dunraven 

THE LION HUNTER 

By Ronalyn Gordon-Cumming 

ADRIFT IN THE ARCTIC ICE PACK 
By Elisha Kent Kane 

FIRST THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON 

By Major John Wesley Powell 

ADVENTURES IN MEXICO 

IN THE OLD WEST 

WILD LIFE IN THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS 

By George Frederick Ruxton 

CAPTIVES AMONG THE' INDIANS 
CASTAWAYS AND CRUSOES 



THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 

Publishers 64-66 Fifth Avenue New York 



Salt Water Poems and Ballads. 

Twelve full-page illuslrations in color, and twenty in black and white. 
By Charles Pears. Price, $2.00 

A book of permanent value by the foremost living poet, illus- 
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price. 

"The salt of the sea is in these jingles; not the mystic sea of the 
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in these days of leviathan liners, in stout-timbered hulls with 
blocks to rattle and hemp for the gale to whistle through and give 
the salt-hpped chantey man his rugged meters." — New York Sun. 

"His verse has the accent of old chanties, the rudeness and the 
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Their lyric quality is true. Reckless and daring they are in spirit." 
— Baltimore Sun. 



THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 

Publishers 64-66 Fifth Avenue New York 



Our Hawaii 



By CHARMIAN K. LONDON 
(Mrs. Jack London) 

$2.25 

This is a book which breathes the soul of Hawaii. Any- 
one lured by the Pacific island as a playground will revel 
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THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 

Publishers 64-66 Fifth Avenue New York 



The Cruise of the Snark 

BY JACK LONDON 

Decorated cloth, 8vo, $2.jo 

One of the most adventurous voyages ever planned was 
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"Deserves an honourable place in the literature of travel 
a,nd adventure." — Outlook. 



The Log of the Snark 

BY MRS. CHARMIAN K. LONDON 

Illustrated, $2.^0 

"The daily pages written on shipboard or in the harbors 
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trated with photographs made by the Londons and uncen- 
sored." — Cleveland Leader. 



THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 

Publishers 64-66 Fifth Avenue New York 



J 



